


The Man Who Would Be Jack

by caligarden



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Identity Issues, M/M, Timothy Lawrence did nothing wrong, everyone shows up at least once, in which I try to solve where in the hell Gearbox misplaced my baby boy, where is he Gearbox where is he?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-24 14:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9765458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caligarden/pseuds/caligarden
Summary: Athena finds an old friend in the hands of new friends, but he's not the same as he once was. Was he still Handsome Jack or Timothy Lawrence once more? What happened to the scared man from Elpis and where does he fit following the fall of Hyperion?((Edited and in-progress))





	1. Prolouge

_Handsome Jack is dead._

  
Timothy strips the lavish penthouse that has served as both home and gilded cage of anything valuable. He collects his favorite guns from where he knows Jack has them stashed, thankful that he’s no longer limited to using just Hyperion branded ones. Timothy throws open the fridge and eats to his heart’s content; Jack’s not around to passive-aggressively remind Tim to uphold some ridiculous diet anymore. Without a shred of guilt, Timothy trashes the penthouse as much as possible and bolts.

  
_Handsome Jack is dead._

  
People part as he strides through the space station, wide eyed and pale, like they’ve seen a ghost. Tim laughs and runs, almost enjoying how people throw themselves out of his way. It’s cruel and wrong, but being Jack for so long has left Tim bitter and hateful toward anything Hyperion. No one is innocent on Helios and no one who willingly works for Hyperion is good.

  
_Handsome Jack is dead._

  
Stealing one of the best ships that Hyperion has to offer is much too easy, but Timothy pays it no mind. Piloting it is much harder, but what little Jack has taught him is enough to at least get him airborne and heading toward Pandora. Nothing but death awaits him there, especially wearing Jack’s face, but he can’t go home and Elpis is too close to Helios for comfort. Hyperion wouldn’t bother wasting Loaders to look for him on Pandora, at least.

  
Handsome Jack is dead and Timothy Lawrence is free.


	2. Atlas Finds Hyperion Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile since I've written anything for fun tbh. Hopefully I'm not too rusty! Forgive me for any mischaracterization.  
> Me trying to figure out that the fuck happened to my sweet son following the end of TPS.  
> unbeta-ed & set directly after the events of TPS.  
> EDIT:  
> Eos- the Titan Goddess of Dawn  
> Selene- the Titan Goddess of the Moon

The first bullet hits dead center. The second veers a little off to the left. Fiona growls and readjusts her grip on the sniper rifle. The third bullet hits the center of the target again and Athena feels a small pinch of pride well in her. Fiona shoots once more and the mag is empty.

“That’s enough for today,” Athena tells her as Fiona reloads with practiced ease. The large shooting range is mostly empty, only one or two few stragglers working on their own aim. It’s open and spacious, but Athena still feels a little paranoid by it all. Rhys may be in charge of Atlas now, but that didn’t erase the memories of hours spent in similar ranges. Nor did it change the pain that Atlas caused.

“You’ve gotten better, especially since last time,” Athena praises as Fiona slings the sniper rifle over her shoulder. The two women fall in step as they sweep out of the range and down the halls of the Atlas compound. “Are you getting used to using the scope now?”

“Yeah,” Fiona breaths out, smiling brightly. “I mean, I still hate it, but I can mostly ignore it and focus. I’ve been getting some help from other Vault Hunters here and there, too.”

They come to an elevator and Fiona pushes the button for them. Athena is mildly surprised and feels another surge of pride. It took the gladiator so long to swallow her own pride and finally ask for help from others. To see Fiona so willing to ask for what Athena herself once refused made Athena feel pride for her student. The elevator digs and the doors slide open. They enter and Athena pushes the button for the ground floor.

“Good, getting perspectives from other Vault Hunters will help you develop your own style,” Athena says lightly. It’s careful praise but Fiona catches it nonetheless, preens under Athena’s careful words.

“More importantly, it helps you establish yourself as a true Vault Hunter.”

“Yeah, I think I have that whole establishing myself part down,” Fiona retorts, smug and proud. Athena chuckles softly; There is no arguing that claim. All of Pandora had their eyes on Fiona after word got around of her part in opening the Vault of the Traveler and her subsequent role in Atlus’ new rise to power. Fiona’s ECHO chimes and she reaches for it immediately.

“You’ve reached the best Vault Hunter Atlas has to offer,” Fiona greeted, causing Athena to roll her eyes. “What’s up?”

“You are not going believe what that Commando brought in,” Sasha’s giddy voice gushes from the other end of the ECHO. Fiona smiles fondly at the sound of her sister’s voice and laughs out, “Let me guess, another meme?”

“You remember that abandoned Hyperion base out by Thousand Cuts that the Vault Hunters refused to even go near?”

“Yeah, Axton and the other Vault Hunters said to leave it alone. Something about it being too sacred to ransack, a load of skag shit if you ask me.”

“Well as it turns out, Rhys’s number one target uses it as a second base.” Athena and Fiona share a look.

○●○●○●○●

Some time ago, during a monthly Atlus board meeting, Rhys had made some offhand comment about the technology and prototypes hidden away in the gleaming city of Opportunity, content to prattled on about the improvements to Pandora that could be made if only they had access to it.

“But following the death of Handsome Jack, they pulled out every engineer, architect, and worker from the place and sealed it up,” Rhys had sighed wishfully. “Made it accessible only to the Vice President of Hyperion. But imagine! If Atlas could get ahold of Opportunity? We could make the standard of living a whole lot better for a whole lot of people here on Pandora!”

Vaughn and Yvette had laughed gone along with Rhys’ fancies, throwing in their own praises of the golden utopia. Those pretty words and promises, halfheartedly signed out by those three ex-Hyperion workers had been enough to spurn August into action. Athena personally believed it was because of the brawler’s own need to surpass his mother’s legacy, but she wasn’t going to complain. Better that he steered his mother’s empire toward good than bad. He had shown up in Rhys’ office two months later with a report and Rhys was quick to call an emergency meeting.

“No one can get in,” August reported.

“Not only is it crawling with all kinda Hyperion bots and turrets, but there’s a gate that vaporizes everything that tries to go through. Lost some good men trying.”

“So it’s completely lost to us, then?” Yvette mused, a small frown on her lips. She absentmindedly reached out and rubbed Rhys’ arm as his shoulders slumped in obvious disappointment.

“That’s a shame.”

“Not quite,” August replied. “Before we got chased off by the Loaders, we saw a human in there. Didn’t get a good look at them, but they were definitely friendly with the bots.” Thoughtful silence crowded the room. Rhys gave himself the small possibility of hope, his mind already racing with ideas. Vaughn cleared his throat before slowly saying, “You know, Krieg mentioned the city once.”

Rhys rounds on him, eyes wide and gleaming.

“They’ve been to the city before! The Vault Hunters have been to Opportunity!”

He turns to Yvette, an excited grin stretched across his face that Yvette can’t help but mimic, and commands, “Get me Axton! I need him to either get us in there or bring that human to us!”

“What’s so great about some stupid city Handsome Jack built?” Fiona argued. “It was just his way of trying to show how much better he was than anyone else on Pandora!”

“Opportunity was to be a utopia with cutting edge technology and experimental prototypes that only the wealthy were going to enjoy,” Yvette explains quickly as Rhys decided to simply sputter and look scandalized rather than actually explain.

“After Handsome Jack died and the city was closed off, that technology stayed there, lost to Hyperion forever.”

“This could make us millions,” Sasha breathed out in in understanding awe.

“It could make Atlas as rich as Hyperion,” Vaughn agrees. “It could also give us an edge on competition. That’s why getting into Opportunity is so important.”

“Get Axton,” Rhys repeats. “If he and the other Vault Hunters or the Atlas militia can get ahold of that guy August and his men saw, then we can get into the city.”

With that, constant surveillance of the city of Opportunity began. The person had only been spotted once, presumably a man, but had their face covered completely. Axton had set out with a strike team to convince the man to return to Atlas’s base in Old Haven. Judging by this new information, Axton had been successful.

“Wanna see what the Commando dragged in?”

○●○●○●○●

They meet the rest of the board members in one of Atlas’s many underground holding cells. A private room cut in two by a wall with a one-way looking glass taking up most of it, a door off to the side that lead into the other section of the room. When Athena had been employed, it had been used mostly for what her superiors had liked to call “unfriendly interrogation”. She liked to believe that Rhys was above that, but looking at the whole situation, she suddenly found herself unsure. He looked too excited to see the hooded figure in the other room tied to a chair. Maybe it was nerves, she really hoped so. It was better than the dangerous gleam in Yvette’s eyes or the dangerous grin on Vaughn’s lips. Axton and Gaige were on the other side of the wall with the prisoner, shuffling nervously. Sasha greeted Athena and Fiona as soon as they entered, and that helped Athena relax a bit. Athena trusted Sasha as the consistent voice of reason, something that the whole current situation seemed to desperately call for.

“I can’t believe Axton found him!” Rhys babbled on gleefully. “I mean, I know Axton said he’d bring him in, but August said that the place has these weird white Loaders, I’ve never seen white Loaders before! Do you...do you think maybe they brought one back? Probably, probably not, right?” Athena pursed her lips and turned to look at the other two Vault Hunters in the other hald of the room, determined to drown out Rhys’ excited murmurings. That didn’t stop Fiona from elbowing h

im in an attempt to calm him. Axton and Gaige looked frazzled, but unharmed. She turned her attention to the prisoner and studied him. A baggy yellow Hyperion shirt, black combat pants with grass stains on the knees, and dirty barely yellow canvas shoes caked in mud. The grey hood placed over his head did nothing to hide the brown braid that cascaded down his back. How had this man survived Pandora for so long, lacking proper combat attire of any kind? It had to be dumb luck.

“Everybody ready?” Axton asked, placing his hands on the hooded figure’s shoulder.

“Enough with the games already, just take it off!” August snapped irritably. “Why would you even need it in the first place?” Athena frowned and found herself nodding with the other’s murmurs of agreement. Axton and Gaige shared an uneasy look and Athena narrowed her eyes.

“Brace yourselves,” Gaige warned and removed the hood. There, unconscious before them and tied to the chair in their brightly lit Altas interrogation room, was Handsome Jack. Rhys and Yvette yelp in shock and cling to each other as Vaughn immediately shoves them behind him, hand reaching for the pearly white Atlus pistol in the holster attached to his belt. Sasha reaches for August, who was closest to the window pane and had already upholstered his gun. Feeling her trembling fingers wrap around the sleeves of his shirt, he steps back, reaches behind, and blindly shoves her toward Fiona, who also tries to grab Sasha away from the glass and closer to her own protective embrace. Athena presses up against the glass, eyes wide and her heart in her throat.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” Vaughn snaps furiously, shoving a trembling Rhys and Yvette further behind him, ready to fight Handsome Jack himself to protect his two idiots. “Kill him!”

“NO!” Athena screeches at the same time that Axton and Gaige shake their heads.

“You asked us to bring you the way into Opportunity, well darlin here it is! Handsome freaking Jack!” Axton retorts as he sarcastically gives the group behind the window his best jazz hands. Gaige snorts but copies him. None of them look even the slightest amused. Vaughn and August are quick to give Athena suspicious glares, although she can’t blame them for their suspicion. Her heart is beating wildly with both adrenaline and hope. Immediately, she is transported back into a memory that has been kept so close to her heart.

Pitiful mismatched eyes filled with tears as an illegal name is gurgled between blood stained teeth while the overwhelmed and scared dying boy trembles in her arms.

“He’s not Jack,” Athena clarifies. “His name is Timothy Lawrence, he’s a body double that Jack hired years ago.”

She commits his sleeping face to memory, freckles that weren’t there before but had definitely been mentioned to her before and a sunburned nose. She frowns softly at the red mark around his neck and suddenly wants to punch the Commando.

“I thought Jack killed him years ago,” she admits in a voice so soft and aged that the tension begins to seep from the rest of the group. “I tried to get him to run away with Springs and me, but...he never showed. I thought Jack must have found out, somehow, and had...and killed him.”

She remembers mourning Timothy. The teary eyed, fearful doppelganger that had clung to her, out of all the other Vault Hunters. Not that she blamed him. The others had bullied and teased him relentlessly whenever the double had been anything other than the perfect Jack. Athena had been willing to still his trembling hands, soothe away the nerves, and teach him how to shoot. Athena slashed her way through Elpis and Timothy had obediently followed after her. It had left an almost maternal taste in her mouth that Athena found she wasn’t so opposed to. After settling in Hollow Point, she and Janey had briefly adopted a kitten. Athena, remembering how much the boy had loved felines, named it after him. It died weeks after being in their care. The irony of the kitten’s death and Athena’s belief of Timothy’s own demise after having been under her mentorship had left the gladiator heartbroken enough to actually cry when they buried it. Seeing Timothy now, alive and mostly well, made Athena want to whisk him away from everything. To keep him safely hidden away with Janey where nothing could ever hurt them both.

“Athena?” The gladiator snaps out of her thoughts and turns to meet Fiona’s worried eyes. Vaughn is watching her closely, still refusing to let Yvette and Rhys move away from his protective hold despite the two getting restless. August has taken over shielding Sasha, who looks more annoyed than distressed. Athena meets Rhys’s gaze, the one who now holds Timothy’s life in his hands, and begs. “Please, let me talk to him.”

○●○●○●○●

There’s voices, maybe three of them.

No four.

No.

There’s more.

Maybe?

His neck feels raw and it hurts to swallow, there’ll be a red welt for weeks, he’s sure.

“Shush! I think he’s waking up!”

A woman’s voice, smooth and strong.

“Oh my god, he is!”

A man’s that time, excited and fearful at the same time.

Timothy Lawrence is fully awake by now, but he keeps his head bowed and his eyes closed. Maybe if he can just pretend that this was all a bad dream, if he doesn’t acknowledge the situation, pretend his face is not open and exposed to strangers who have not yet killed him. His hands are tied together behind the plush chair that he’s sitting on. His fingers feel for a weight that is gone, for his trusted friends, but find none. It makes his stomach churn with panic and anger, a loss he knows he cannot survive.

“Give it back,” he whispers, voice hoarse and weak.

The sound of a door opens somewhere close by and multiple footsteps shuffle in. Only one set comes closer, though, and then a trembling hand pats his head. He twitches away, eyes still firmly shut, and bared his teeth. There’s the cocking of a gun and Timothy feels tears prickling behind his eyes. This was always going to happen, given who’s face he is wearing.

“Give them back,” he pleads again and the hand returns, cupping his face gently. He twitches away again, ignoring how soft and comforting that hand was.

“Timothy?”

Athena.

His eyes fly open, blinking against the sharp, bright light, and meet the gladiator’s. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, as strong and fierce and soft. Her eyes shine and Timothy cries for them both.

“Athena,” he croaks and nuzzles into her soft and comforting hand.

She pulls him close, burying his face in her stomach as they try to convey their emotions to each other through a badly handled hug. She turns her head, still clutching Timothy close, and glares at the group before her. She’s realized what Timothy is asking for.

“Where is his watch?” she demands and Axton quickly digs it out of his pocket. She reaches a demanding hand out for it, but Axton hesitates.

“Give me the watch, Axton!” Athena snarls, perhaps a bit too forcefully she realizes belatedly when Axton frowns.

“You know what it does, don’t you?” he accuses and Athena narrows her eyes. Rhys plucks it from Axton and looks it over.

“It creates digistructs of Handsome Jack,” Gaige supplies helpfully, scowling at Athena. “We saw those two, fought them when they realized that we grabbed this guy. They disappeared a little bit after, so it probably has a limit.”

“No way,” Rhys breath out, a little dazzled by the tech. He straps it to his own arm, the flesh one, but does nothing more than admire it. Yvette and Vaughn both stepped closer to Rhys, obviously curious as well, but something seemed to hold them back. The two share a loon before crowding Rhys, who is still fascinated by the watch. Athena nearly lunges at him when Rhys begins to tap away at the watch’s keypad. She keeps herself contained when she sees Vaughn immediately grab Rhys’ arm, stopping him.

“Rhys,” Yvette says cautiously. Rhys at least has the conscious to look guilty and takes it off. Wordlessly, he hands it to Athena as Yvette begins to quietly scold him. She snatches it away none too gently and presses it against Timothy’s cheek.

“They’re here, Timothy,” she assures him softly. “Eos and Selene are safe.”

Timothy breaths out a sigh of relief. He trusts Athena to keep them safe, she knows how important the Digi-Jacks are to him. Athena tucks the watch gently into one of her pockets. She runs her hand through his hair and ignores the sound of Yvette clearing her throat. Rhys looked thoroughly shamed.

“As heartwarming as this all is,” Yvette says strategically, “We still need answers, and a way into Opportunity.”

Timothy stiffens and Athena feels rather than sees the changes that flit across Timothy’s demeanor. In a heartbeat, Handsome Jack is in her arms.

“You bandits stay the hell away from my city! Stay away from my family, and stay away from my Angel’s grave!”

“Your Angel?!” Gaige and Axton angrily screech.

“Your city?” Rhys prompts, unamused.

“A family?” Yvette and Vaughn echo uneasily.

Athena cups Timothy’s face and forces him to look up at her. Unfocused angry eyes slide into confusion and then clear into alertness. Gone is the perfect Jack and once again is the crybaby double there before her. Athena tucks a brown lock of his hair behind his ear and looks as stern as possible. This is all entirely new, the quick snap of personalities, especially with how perfect Timothy’s impression was.

“Why don’t you tell us everything, Tim?” she prompts gently. “What happened after I left for good? Why didn’t you come with me? Why did you stay with Jack? How did you survive?”

Timothy grimaces and tries to bury his face in Athena’s stomach again, but the gladiator takes a step back. He looks lost and curls into himself as much as possible.

“It’s a long story,” Tim tries to argue.

“You got somewhere else to be, darlin?” Axton sorts and Athena does turn to punch him. Timothy whines but finally nods.

“Ok.”


	3. Jack of All Trades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited and made better, hopefully.

“I’m leaving Timothy.”

It’s whispered between the two of them as they’re standing across the room, watching Jack strangle yet another Hyperion employee. An R&D member, Timothy realizes somberly, Gladstone’s direct successor. Athena is staring at him too intently, but Timothy isn’t sure of what to say. The nameless technician's garbled pleas make him sick. Timothy just wants to be dismissed so he can get some peace and quiet, maybe even sleep a little. Athena takes his trembling hands in hers, drawing his attention back to her.

“You should come with me, Tim,” Athena urges in what Timothy is sure that she thinks is a gentle tone. It’s hard, leaving no room for argument, and Timothy wants so badly to obey her orders. She’s always had his best interest in mind, but reality is cruel and Timothy is contractually obligated to be exactly where he doesn’t want to be. Not to mention that Jack finally has a legitimate need for him. Timothy gives her a sad smile and weakly says, “My face, Jack’s face, is plastered everywhere now, where will I go Athena?”

“Hey other me! Get over, kiddo!”

Timothy flinches and draws his hands out of Athena’s with a frown. He musters every ounce of courage he has, turns, and swaggers over to Jack with a fake grin stretched across his face that mirrors the cruel one on Jack. A sickness buries itself in Athena’s stomach as she watches the two men laugh over the technician’s corpse - one genuine, one fake. A week later finds Athena gone and Jack in a raging fit. He calls the gladiator a bandit, calls her a traitor, calls for her head on a pike. Timothy doesn’t say a word about the slip of paper that had appeared in his jacket pocket, a string of strange coordinates for a fast-travel station written on it in Athena’s handwriting. He burns it and stays at Jack’s side, and Jack keeps him closer than ever.

Close enough that when Timothy returns to his dinky haphazardly built studio apartment in Helios’ half finished residential area, he’s barely surprised to find a sleeping Jack sprawled across his pathetic excuse for a couch. Timothy dumps his jacket on the floor and carefully arranges a threadbare blanket over Jack; soft snoring is the only response Timothy gets from the psychotic CEO. Tim drags another blanket from his closet and curls up on the floor for his own well earned nap. He wakes up later to Jack painfully pinching both his cheeks.

“C’mon, kiddo, get your shit,” is the only thing Jack laughs out when Timothy whines and weakly shoves Jack away. Still half asleep and irritated, Timothy bites out a snarky, “Why?”

“Because we’re going home, dumdum,” Jack replies tartly. He’s already stuffing Timothy’s ammo stash into a bag, along with what little clothes he had left. Timothy doesn’t say a word, but gets up to help him. And just like that, Timothy finds himself living in the same golden penthouse that Jack as claimed from Tassiter.

“Welcome home, champ,” Jack says softly, reaching out and taking Tim’s hand in his own. Tim foolishly believes him.

○●○●○●○●

Aurelia is bolder, but she at least tells Jack that she’s leaving. The Baroness finds them in Jack’s office, sitting side by side typing away on Jack’s computer. Jack was trying to teach Timothy simple codework, and considering that Tim has only been slapped twice and punched once, he’d say it was going fairly well. Aurelia clears her throat to get their attention and Jack flicks away the screen with a twitch of his wrist.

“Hey Hammerlock, what can I do for ya?” Jack greets as Timothy gives her a small wave.

“As lovely and as dreadfully boring as this has all become for you and Hyperion,” Aurelia greets with a drawl, “I cannot stand this disgusting stagnation. I depart in three days.”

“Hmm, welp! Ok,” Jack sighs dramatically. “But if Hyperion crosses path with you again you are SO dead.”

Aurelia laughs and nods. “By all means, Jack, you’re welcome to try.”

Jack snorts and dismisses her, bringing the monitor back to life. Aurelia hesitates and it takes both Jack and Tim a moment to realize that she is staring at the doppelganger.

“Yeah?” Tim asks carefully. Aurelia looks soft for a moment before a sharp smirk spreads across her face. Timothy manages to repress a shudder but can’t help scooting closer to Jack.

“You know? I could always use a companion on my adventures.”

Timothy’s blood turns to ice. Jack laughs and pulls Tim closer, painfully digging his fingers into Tim’s side. Jack’s smile turns too sharp and his eyes are flashing with dangerous madness. Aurelia remains nonplussed, head high and demanding.

“I’m a little too fond of myself, so the answer’s no,” Jack replies sweetly.

Aurelia casts another glance toward Timothy, and the doppelganger suddenly thinks of Athena. Timothy’s not cut out for the life of a mercenary, a vault hunter, of being Handsome Jack. It’s obvious really, but having people try to rescue him like some damsel in distress is disheartening. Timothy was clumsy and weak and scared on Elpis, but he still held his own against everything. From a clueless college student desperate for money who’s never shot a gun before Elpis, let alone held one, to a fledgeling Vault Hunter who helped bring down the Empyrean Sentinel alongside the other mercenaries. Timothy is, by no means, helpless. He’s done having others baby him. Although he never actually asked, Timothy knows that he was chosen to be Jack’s double for a reason. He scowls and reaches out to wrap his own arm around Jack’s neck. 

“Very well, enjoy your pet,” Aurelia replies and trots off.

○●○●○●○●

In the following months, as Helios is repaired and further constructed, Timothy isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be anymore. Following Athena and Aurelia’s resignation, Jack doesn’t go anywhere or do anything without demanding that Tim follow. He’s a constant presence in Jack’s office, a shadow that helps oversee the completion of Helios, and an extension of Jack who cuts down any opposition that threatens Jack’s reign. At the same time, Jack leaves him locked up in that godforsaken penthouse for days, weeks even! It’s comforting at first, but the silence leaves Tim restless and prone to bouts of depression and guilt. Timothy takes up all kinds of hobbies, tries writing again even, anything to keep his mental breakdown at bay. 

Nisha is around less and less, until she all but disappears, too busy running Lynchwood to report all the way back to Helios. So Jack sends Tim down to her, then Tim and Wilhelm, and then just Wilhelm. Whatever Jack and Nisha had been together becomes a distant but sweet memory that ignites only in the rare times when Nisha is tracking Pandoran dust through the halls of Helios and into the penthouse. Timothy learns to sleep on the couch with really good earplugs on those rare nights, no matter how much both Nisha and Jack try to tempt him into their bed.

Jack had always been rather lecherous toward Timothy, from the moment he first laid eyes on Timothy during Zarpadon’s attack on Helios, but the masked man grows bolder as time passes. At first, Timothy is fairly frightened of how handsy Jack becomes, always sure to rest his hand somewhere on Tim. Sometimes innocently resting on Timothy’s shoulder or back. Sometimes not-so-innocently falling onto his hips or brushing against Timothy’s ass. Jack eventually gets his way. Timothy timidly allows Jack’s flirtations and gentle touches turn to desperate physical contact, and he is quick to pounce on Timothy’s weak resolve. Their relationship evolves into heedy sexual escapades in bed and then into something even more. It heals something in them both and Tim craves that false sense of security.

○●○●○●○●

Months pass and Timothy expects a mask fitting at any moment. It’s inevitable, really, Jack has a mask and Tim does not. What use is a doppelganger if they are not the same? The topic comes up after they’ve both settled in for the night, lounging on the same soft king-sized bed. Jack’s mask rests in bowl of a clear solution, oddly reminiscent of the same solution used for contacts. The vault scar on Jack’s face pulses a soft lavender in the dim light. Timothy can’t help but stare at Jack as he types away furiously on an ECHOpad, no doubt answering company emails if his grumbling was any indication. His fingers reach out to touch only to be slapped away by Jack. He spares Tim a glance but continues typing. “What?”  
Timothy glances at the mask once more before saying softly, “Nothing.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jack sets aside the ECHOpad and turns to face Timothy. Tim presses down into his pillow, trying to avoid Jack. “You’ve got my attention now, princess. What’s bothering you this time?”

“When am I getting the surgery?” Tim blurts out anxiously. A look of confusion passes over Jack’s face. “What surgery?”

Another glance at the mask and suddenly Jack understands. He pulls Tim into his arms and holds him tight against his chest.

“What? And mess up that handsome face? I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Tim, understandably, is confused for a moment before panicking. “You’re going to kill me?!”

 

“What? No, idiot!” Jack knuckles the back of Tim’s head, rolling his eyes. He forces his doppelganger to meet his gaze, mismatches eyes meeting mismatched eyes.

“You’re all I’ve got to remind me of what I was suppose to be,” Jack admits softly. “Of what those fucking bandits down on Pandora ruined and what those traitorous vault hunters created. I’m not ruining my, your, face.”

“Then how am I going to be your double?” Tim prompted. Jack grinned and reaches over to his nightstand to pluck his pocket watch from where it rested.

“Really, boss? How’s a watch gunna help?” Tim teased dubiously. Jack punched his double’s shoulder before snarkily answering, “Well nothing yet, dumdum, but the boys down in R&D are gunna make a sweet new toy for you and a whole bunch of others! Why surgically alter all my future body doubles when we can just give them this old watch and poof! Instant replica!”

Timothy grimaces.

“Oh come on pumpkin, I’m doing this for you! Others are gonna be expendable, killable, but you? Oh man, you are gonna be my number one, kiddo, my only real 100% body double. No one else will be as close to being as handsome as me or you.” 

Timothy swallows the growing bile in his throat and focuses on the watch still in Jack’s hand. Gladstone gave his that watch to give to Jack, and Jack was just going to parody it without a second thought. But the allure of not having to undergo any more painful surgery was too much and Timothy found himself slowly nodding. “No more surgery?”

“No more surgery,” Jack complied.

“No real mask?” Timothy clarified.

“Just the illusion of it, pumpkin, nothing more. Trust me.”

“I trust you, Jack.”

True to his word, a pocket watch identical to Jack’s appears on his nightstand within two weeks. He dresses in the bathroom, nervously fixing his hair before attaching it and turning it on. Staring back in the mirror is the same face he’s known since signing up for the body double program. The mask is new.

Tim gasps and touches his face. The familiar feel of synthetic skin is cold beneath his fingertips. He turns it off and his skin feels smooth and warm again. Turning it on once more and Handsome Jack stands before the mirror, the previous doppelganger gone. It draws forth giddy laughter and Handsome Jack flashes a wide uncharacteristic grin.  
Handsome Jack struts through Helios to his office to stand before Handsome Jack. The two stare at each other in awe and break out into matching laughter.

“Hey there, handsome!”

○●○●○●○●

Timothy, for better or worse, becomes Jack. He attends meetings that Jack either cannot or does not want to attend. He screams at Hyperion employees and eventually airlocks them too. It is therapeutic in a way, just as Jack had said, before the guilt and horror sets in, but Tim is a professional in shoving his own emotions away now. He swaggers across Pandora like a king, and around Helios like a god. It’s almost good to be Jack, and Timothy has become much too good at pretending. Wilhelm and Nisha can’t tell the difference anymore and Timothy takes a sick pleasure in taking advantage of their ignorance. Jack enjoys it too.

Timothy is Jack, save for the moments when Jack needs him to be Timothy; Because Timothy is who Jack buries his weaknesses in. In private moments, hidden away from all eyes, Jack unravels for Tim. He cries and laughs and tells Tim secrets that will never see the light of day. 

Jack tells him of a woman he once loved; a woman with tired eyes and a sleepy smile that threw herself into her work with mad glee who birthed a fallen angel. Of a corporate shark he tried to love; a woman with sharp edges and tight lips that only smiled for power until she couldn’t take it anymore. He tells Tim of a weak boy who bled under his grandmother’s care and of the captive angel in her satellite. Jack whispers things shown to him in the Vault on Elpis. He explains his visions for Pandora. He talks and talks and Timothy listens. Sometimes he doesn’t talk at all.

Instead, Jack gives Timothy his pain, beats his words into the poor doppelganger. He claws and tears Timothy’s skin in a frenzied rage, and bites until the madness in his veins subsides. He paints Tim with scars until they are truly the same in both body and soul. Despite all this, Timothy doesn’t mind. Bruises are easy to cover up with makeup and the illusionary watch he now wears makes black eyes and split lips vanish.

Timothy holds these moments close to his heart, feeble proof that Jack is just as human as everyone else; that Jack is just as kind. It’s not real, what little kindness that Jack shows, it’s been sucked out of him by betrayal and the Vault artifact, but Timothy wants to believe. It makes him feel better about how deep he is falling into Jack. They both silently come to a consensus that Timothy Lawrence died long ago on Elpis and eventually stop speaking his name. 

Time passes and for some time, neither one can truly remember who is the real Jack


	4. Pandora Spins and Tim Lives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I uphold Gearbox & 2K Gaming's weird need to name everything after greek gods.

Timothy’s first trip down to Pandora’s surface had been alongside Nisha. To Lynchwood. The planet’s dust lodged itself in his throat, choking him, and the sun mercilessly scorched his skin. Seeing the wasteland before him, filled with manic psychos and mindless murderers, Timothy finally believed that Jack was there to do good for betterment of the planet. Nisha and Timothy sweep across the town, leaving death and empty bullet shells in their wake. Timothy feels much bolder and surefooted on Pandora’s solid ground and he actually manages to enjoy himself. In the end, Timothy plucks the bloody sheriff badge off the corpse of bandit leader that had dared to pretend his word was law and presents it to Nisha. She grins wickedly and gives him a soft kiss on the cheek. They rebuild the town to Nisha’s liking and Timothy is thrilled by the order that they have created.

“I can’t wait to see Jack make the rest of Pandora like this,” he hums dreamily.

“It’s gonna be great, baby boy,” she agrees.

○●○●○●○●

The next time Tim touches down on Pandora’s surface, he is with Jack and a whole platoon of Loader Bots. After months of careful planning, debating, and funding, they are there to set down the foundation of Opportunity. Timothy stands in awe of the beauty around him. Jack is talking, prattling off about something that might’ve been important, but a long dead primal urge in Timothy surged forward in his heart. He barely spares a glance toward Jack before taking off in a sprint across the grass. He’s running and laughing, ignoring Jack’s shout of surprise. There is wind, real wind, brushing against his hair as he runs and the dirt is soft and gives way against his footfalls; it feels like home. Then he trips and falls. Timothy lays in the grass, breathless and happy. He hears quick footsteps and before too long an annoyed, panting Jack enters his vision. Before Jack could open his mouth to most likely scold him, Tim reaches up and yanks as hard as he could. Jack yelps and slams down hard on Tim, who’s forgotten that he’s still the stronger of the two no matter what the CEO claims. Jack rolls off of Tim and weakly slaps the stunned doppleganger on his chest.

“What the hell was that?” Jack whines and Timothy manages an equally pained laugh. They lay in the grass together for a peaceful moment.

“How can a planet so disgusting and violent hold such a beauty?” Tim marvels as he stares up at the glassy blue sky speckled with fluffy clouds. Fingers intertwined with his and the world feels right.

○●○●○●○●

He returns again and again, whenever he can really, to see their daughter. Not that it really feels like Pandora. The Hyperion base is far too secure to feel like the wild planet outside of it’s gates. Timothy’s always accompanied by two or three of her Angelic Guard Loaders the moment that he digistructs before the fast travel station. He never really sees the planet, only Angel.

○●○●○●○●

Timothy’s last trip comes hours after Handsome Jack is dead. After stealing a Hyperion ship, Timothy practically crash lands in the Highlands. He’s too far from his intended destination and too close to a Hyperion base, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that he needs to see for himself, needs to confirm that everything that has happened within the last few hours is real. He grabs as much as he can carry and wraps a scarf around his mouth. It wasn’t the best at concealing his identity, but it was all he could find in their- his- apartment on Helios. With luck, not that Timothy was ever really lucky, he’ll be able to reach Control Core Angel without anyone realizing who he was, or rather who he no longer was. He descends from the ship and jumps down onto the soft grass underfoot. A warm breeze blows through the valley, carrying with it the lazy the cries of Rakks circling above and the gentle babbling of the brook nearby. Timothy takes in a deep breath of the crisp fresh air, a far cry from the recycled oxygen of Helios. An ancient ache in his chest yearns for a home that is no longer his; distant memories hazy as they claw to the forefront of his mind. Childish giggles, freckled cheeks, and dirty feet.

Timothy shakes them away and sets off across the plains. Timothy passes a Catch-A-Ride and almost expects Janey Spring’s cheery voice. Instead, a man says some gibberish about 42% of 26% annual death and Timothy snorts. Math had never been his strong suit, not even when he was trying to learn a bit of everything up on Helios in hopes of better running the company. Jack had been the math whiz between the two of them. Still, he can at least take some form of pleasure in knowing that he wasn’t as bad as that guy. By the time Timothy reached the edge of Thousand Cuts, he’s exhausted and has depleted half of his ammo. Kraggons and helpless Hyperion employees were easier to kill than Stalkers, Timothy decided, at least the other two didn’t turn invisible.

He leans against a cragged rock and reloads his precious 88 Fragnum. It was the only gun that he had proudly grinded on his own and it worked wonders; it certainly helped save his skin more than once on Elpis. Eyes wander toward their destination and Tim’s heart clenches. Sickness pools in his gut and Tim scrambles away from the rock and promptly empties the contents of his stomach all over the dirt. The ache in his chest demands attention and his eyes begin to well with tears.

Timothy vomits again. An angry screech escapes from between Timothy’s lips pulled back into a furious expression.

He curses his own weakness, hates it as much as he hates the vault hunter who…

Timothy slams his hand against the rock he was leaning against and allows himself to shutter with grief. He spits out both the nasty aftertaste of sickness in his mouth and the emotions crowding his heart. He stands up, back straight and eyes cold, and neatly shuts down his feelings. It won’t help to break down now, not yet. There is still something he has to see for himself. Once each emotion is quietly frozen and neatly compartmentalized, Timothy proceeds forward.

Timothy makes short work of the Slabs that have settled at the base of the mountain. Hyperion’s loading dock has kept them at bay, but their presence was still too close for Timothy’s liking. He crosses the scorched no man’s land and passes the dead deterrent field. The climb is steep and Timothy is embarrassed to find that he might not be as in shape as he thought he was. Understandable, really, he’s spent years playing corporate god as opposed to running around taking missions for Jack the way Wilhelm did. It’s embarrassing nonetheless and he directs his anger at the few surviving combat engineers that approach him with misplaced hope in their eyes. The Loaders that also approach him thankfully outnumber the humans and Timothy makes a cruel choice.

He’ll take the machines over the men.

He collects ammo from nearby chests as the Loader Bots mow down the panicked engineers. Timothy snags a helmet from one of the corpses and carefully slips it on. The helmet and scarf work well together and successfully hide Timothy’s face; it’s breezier than expected and perfect. He continues his climb up the mountain, a herd of Loader Bots following him obediently.

Standing directly in front of the entrance to the bunker stands a badly damaged Badass Constructor. It’s been so long since he was face to face with such a machine, so long since he thought of the old Dahl AI that he had helped murder. Felicity. This constructor is too small, the wrong color, the wrong make, the wrong everything! It’s farfetched and a buckwild thought, but given Timothy’s current emotional state and the fighting spirit that it possesses, he can think of nothing else. Timothy coos at it soothingly and assesses the damage. It’ll take time to repair, but it could work beautifully once more.

“You did so good,” Timothy praises. The constructor beeps sadly in response.

“So good, protecting my baby girl even when she’s gone. You’ve got to set aside though, I have to see my daughter. I have to see my baby girl, move.”

The constructor beeps wildly and its engines sputter to life. It hovers maybe a foot off the ground, unsteady and wobbling recklessly. Timothy carefully leads it the side with sweet praises and encouragement. The Loaders watch with rapt attention as Timothy rechecks the constructor once it heavily settles down. Tim motions for them and they creep closer.

“Keep her safe.” Tim moves away and the Loaders practically huddle around the constructor. He leaves them there and wanders up into the bunker. Tearing down the flimsy yellow tape across the enterence’s threshold feels impossible. His hands tremble as they curl around the thin plastic. He steps up to the Hyperion emblem and even though he’s expecting it, he jumps when the security door speaks.

“Scanning bio-signature,” comes the automated calm voice, “Bio-signature confirmed: Hello, sexy. Awaiting password.”

His throat dries and he wraps his arms around himself. He can’t do it, he can’t do it, he can’t face this reality. He turns around, ready to sprint away, maybe concoct some story about how Handsome Jack never dies, when he notices it. A fast travel machine. It’s twisted and broken, with a small cracked vase full of dead flowers nestled where its screen once was. It’s a memorial, Tim is certain of it. A cocktail of emotions good and bad mix in his heart and drown his thoughts with regret and guilt. Tears well in his eyes and he weeps out a soggy, “I love you.”

“Access granted.”

Timothy stumbles into the elevator and sobs as he descends into Angel’s tomb. Lights flicker dimly as Tim blindly barrels toward the center, but he pays them no mind. It’s not as important. He bursts into the control core and freezes; nothing has been touched since her murder. Scorch marks and bullet holes cover the walls while destroyed Loaders and empty ammo cases litter the floor. The air is putrid and diseased, but that’s not what makes Timothy gag and crumple to the floor.

There, peacefully curled up against the console, pristine and lifeless, is his Angel.

○●○●○●○●

Work on Helios is officially complete and workers are to travel to the moonbase in the following weeks to come. They stride through the empty halls, excitedly filling the silence with weapon plans, projects that can now be started, and biting heartfelt banter. They pass one of Helio’s many high arched windows and Jack stops. Tim follows his gaze to the satellite that is just barely visible; 4N631.

“Is that…” Timothy begins softly but falters as Jack presses his hand against the glass.

There’s a sad wistful look on his face, Jack stands there as open and vulnerable as a bleeding wound.

Once Helios is full of employees and running smoothly, there’ll be no room for the hidden child on the moonbase. No need for her. Not when Pandora is right there for the taking. She’ll be moved to Pandora as soon as a proper Hyperion base can be perfectly acquired and secured. Tim steps closer and presses his face into Jack’s shoulder. Jack moves suddenly and Tim flinches away, ready for the coming pain or hateful words. A hand softly cups his cheek and Tim relaxes, smiles, and leans in.

“Do you want to meet her?” His tone is forcefully light and airy, but Tim can hear the weight and stress hidden within. Jack is offering Timothy another chance to peer into what little humanity there is left in the crazed man.

Timothy feels privileged and loved and trapped all at once

“Do you want me to?” Tim asks carefully. Jack smiles brightly and Tim can’t help how his heart flutters.

“Hell yes.”

They move swiftly now that they have a destination in mind, equipping OZ kits as they move to one of Helio’s more private hangar bays. The 4N631 satellite drifts closer, as if knowing it’s creator's intent, and before too long it is slowly docking on one of the platforms. Jack approaches it with purpose, Timothy follows much more slowly. The back of the satellite hisses as it falls open and reveals its inhabitant.

“Hello father.”

She’s polite and professional, despite messy wayward strands of black hair sticking out of her loose pigtails and the pretzel crumbs on her face. Angel’s barefoot and dressed only in a simple plain white dress, a small speck of color in the satellite's large dark interior. The plain dress makes her look smaller, younger, and does nothing to cover the looping swirls that tattoo her arm, chest, and leg. A Siren. Timothy shouldn’t be so surprised, Jack had told him this particular secret after all, but seeing her was a whole other thing. So much power packed into such a feeble body, if the stories and legends held any truth. Timothy stares in awe of the precious child before him.

“Hey baby, you doing ok?” Jack greets, hand reaching out for her. A look of panic flashes across her face before being overwhelmed by guilt, but still she makes no move to stand.

“What’s wrong pumpkin?”

“My legs are numb,” she answers softly. “I don’t think I would be able to stand right now. Pins and needles and all that.”

“It’s ok! S-She doesn't have to do anything she’s uncomfortable with!” The words tumble out of Tim’s mouth before he could stop them. Jack shoots him a dark glare and Angel finally notices that her father is not alone. She gasps softly, a small hand coming up to cover her mouth and reaches out for Jack with her other hand. He’s kneeling by her side in a heartbeat, a loving smile on his lips as he watches her observe the doppelganger.

“You’re Timothy Lawrence,” she breathes out. Tim smiles nervously, a familiar feeling of dysmorphia overtaking him at the mention of his real name. He finds himself unable to do anything more than give her a feeble wave. Jack extends his hand and Timothy slowly makes his way closer until he too is kneeling before Angel. She stares down at him, childish eyes wide and filled with joyous hope. His heart swells with pure love and only continues to grow as Jack says, “Angel, sweetie, meet your second dad.”

By all contractual reasons, Jack is right. Timothy is Jack and Angel is Jack’s daughter. Angel is his daughter, Timothy’s daughter. Timothy begins to cry. Angel extends her hand slowly and pushes aside a lock of Tim’s hair. Her eyes are on him, but are seemingly unfocused and looking at something far away. Timothy turns his head and kisses the palm of her hand. A part of Timothy can’t believe that the lovely child before him is his new daughter. A daughter! As if reading Timothy’s own thoughts, a sincere grin stretches across her face and she gifts the two captive men with a petal of sweet laughter.

“He’s perfect!”

○●○●○●○●

Timothy thought he was over this. Thought that death could no longer scare him, make him scream with horror, make him weep.

He was wrong.

Timothy crawls his way over to her, a sobbing, shaking mess, and gently takes her in his arms.

She’s ice cold and clammy, limp and unresponsive as Tim clings to her. His howling heartbreak reverberates throughout the room and swallows him whole.

Angel is dead, Handsome Jack is dead, and Timothy Lawrence wishes that he was too.


	5. Time Goes On and Pandora Still Spins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selene & Eos are children of the titans Theia & Hyperion (wink wonk)
> 
> The Loaders are all named after types of Nymphs.

“Fuck you.”

The small amount of comfort that Timothy had begun to feel immediately evaporated, a frown forming on his face. Athena mirrored him, looking back to stare at Axton. The commando is shaking with rage. Gaige is wiping at her eyes, glaring at Timothy.

“You should have done it then,” she snarls. “Joined Jack in Hell!”

Timothy seethes and opens his mouth to shout at them, but Athena neatly steps in front of Timothy. He takes in her confusion and honest curiosity and manages to swallow his rage. Axton does the same and turns to comfort Gaige, who has begun to quietly weep. Athena forces herself to ignore the girl’s tears, choosing instead to quizzically focus on Timothy.

“Who’s Angel?” Timothy reels back, suddenly realizing that Athena would not know at all about his precious Angel.

He almost feels shy as he tries to carefully articulate exactly how special Angel was. How Athena, and the other people in the room with them, should bow and worship his sweet girl. Timothy’s wonderful daughter, whom they have never met, whom they never meet, even if she had been still alive.

“Jack’s- my - our daughter. She was our daughter.”

“A daughter?” Yvette echoes skeptically.

A despairing look falls across Timothy’s face, grief and loss etched into his very pores.

“My Angel,” he says lovingly. “My sweet baby girl.”

“Jack had a daughter?”

“He had a Siren.” Axton tries to viciously correct. Athena turns, accidentally allowing Timothy and Axton to lock eyes.

“Jack had a daughter,” Timothy snorts tonelessly, “I had a daughter. Angel was our little girl, and those disgusting, heartless, psychopathic murderers killed my child!”

With each word spoken, Timothy’s voice raises until by the end he’s screaming at Axton. Eyes blazing with fury and sparking with building tears, Timothy finally begins to struggle against his bonds. Axton’s lips curl in disgust and he opens his mouth, but Athena cuts him off quickly.

“She wasn’t your daughter, Timothy.” Her voice is soft and careful, but when Timothy swerves his head to look at her, he simply stares. Looks at Athen as if she had just gutted him. His mouth opens and loses a couple times, starting to say something before abruptly stopping. Athena kneels before him, unsure and suddenly afraid for Timothy’s mental health, or what little he had left.

“Angel, she wasn’t your daughter,” Athena repeats. “She was Jack’s daughter, and you-”

“Jack gave me to her!” Timothy keens, tears begin to drip down his cheeks.

Lost and confused, Timothy suddenly looks years younger, like the twitchy innocent youth from Elpis. Athena’s heart clenches with an emotion she can’t quite comprehend, that old maternal taste in her mouth as she reaches up to take Timothy’s face between her hands. A low whine escapes Timothy and he’s suddenly sobbing. Athena gathers him in her arms, shushing him, holding him close. Rhys and Vaughn shuffle uncomfortably, even Axton looks awkwardly anywhere but at Timothy and Athena, but Yvette narrows her eyes in sharp understanding.

“What do you mean Jack gave you to her?” she pries. “Don’t you mean Jack gave her to you?”

Athena bares her teeth at the other woman, but Yvette is resolute and demanding. She waits, almost coldly, as Timothy works toward reining in his tears. He’s down to watery sniffles when Yvette repeats her question. “Did Handsome Jack give you to this Angel, or did he give Angel to you?”

“Yvette,” Rhys tries to quietly reprimand. Yvette glances at him. A soft look passes across her face and Rhys seems to understand, shaking his head slowly. Vaughn glances at them both, saying nothing but seemingly understanding the silent exchange. Timothy pulls away from Athena, who mournfully allows him to, and meets Yvette eye to eye.

“Jack took me to her, a little bit after the completion of Helios, and he gave Timothy Lawrence to his daughter. Angel kept him and loved him and built him back up again and again when all there was left was Handsome Jack. She reminded me of all that I was and all that I had been, despite Jack working endlessly to destroy Timothy Lawrence, and succeeding so very often. I did everything she asked me to do, because Jack wanted me to, because I wanted to, and in the end that wasn’t enough. I couldn’t save Jack, despite everything I did for him. I couldn’t save Angel, despite everything I did for her. Vault Hunters killed the ones I loved, and all I could do was run away from the home and the life that Jack and Angel had built for me, because Angel begged me to take her away but I didn’t because I was too in love with Handsome goddamn Jack!”

There is silence, save for the ragged breathing of a frantic Timothy. “W-Well that can’t be the whole story, right?” Fiona chimes in, voice too loud and too cheerful.

“I mean, c’mon, you winded up here!”

It’s an attempt to assuage the awkward tension in the room, but it works nonetheless. Timothy nods.

“Yeah, I did.”

“So what happened?”

○●○●○●○●

Timothy buries Angel at the foot of the mountain, still within Hyperion boundaries. He had debated burying her elsewhere, but it was too risky and there was no guarantee that her grave wouldn’t be desecrated. The Loaders dig a near perfect cavern into the side of the mountain at his request, and reverently fill it back up. A pair of Loaders fly off and return with fistfuls of crumpled flowers.

Another one appears with a familiar scrap of Hyperion yellow metal; it reads “4N631” and bares the familiar vault symbol surrounded by her wings.

Timothy weeps and praises his bots repeatedly. He has a couple of the Loaders pry the fast travel memorial loose and bring it down to Angel’s grave. He hates them to his core, always will, but he cannot deny their memorial to his beloved daughter. He still believes that she deserved better, a better life and a better death, but this was all that he could do with his limited resources.

Tim treks back up to the control core and knocks out in the uncomfortable center that once chained his Angel. When he awakes, he buries his grief deep in his heart and assesses the new home he has chosen. There is no shortage of work in the new home that Timothy has claimed for himself. The remaining Loaders, there’s 5 of them in total, and the lone constructor are eager to please and join Tim in making the area much more habitable. They clear the control center and carefully plug up the veins of liquid eridium.

The Loaders are adamant about Tim staying out of the core until the eridium completely drains out. Once it is deemed safe, Tim tugs a pilfered mattress into it with a sense of finality. It becomes a homy room as time goes on, slowly becoming filled with chests full of random bits of clothes, dried food, ammo, and random trinkets brought to him by his troop of Loaders.

The top of the bunker is turned into a garden. The Loaders bring him heaps of earth from the Highlands and seeds from places that Timothy isn’t certain he wants to know. Death was involved in obtaining those seeds, Timothy is certain, and it's better to not worry about it. Each white pad is soon covered by brown dirt boxed in by scraps of metal and becomes a bed filled with a flourishing vegetables. He uses an empty money box as a makeshift watering can; it’s tiring to use such a small thing to hydrate such large plots. Tim teaches the Loaders how to weed the small plots and to drive away Rakks. He watches with pride as they easily take to gardening, especially a BUL Loader that he’s named Hesperides. Hesperides has really taken to gardening and Tim proudly places it in charge of tending to the garden.

He’s grateful that Jack had the foresight to make him dabble in everything up on Helios once he sets to work on Felicity. He strips her damaged casing away and tackles her damaged wiring and code. He’s elbow deep in Felicity’s hardware when the Ion Loader, Nephele, approaches him.

“Will righteous Mother be OK?” it asks, and Tim swears he hears a tint of worry in the bot’s voice. Tim pulls away from Felicity, pats her encouragingly when she beeps twice, and gives Nephele his attention.

“Loader Bots and Constructors weren’t exactly built to be repaired,” Tim admits. “It’s not going to be easy, I think I can fix her, but we need more, ah…”

“You need components,” Nephele clarifies and Tim nods.

“We’ll bring you the dead.”

Timothy probably wasn’t supposed to laugh, but Nephele doesn’t seem to mind. He leaves and Tim returns to Felicity. He’s mumbling binary to himself by the time Nephele returns, dragging half a destroyed Badass Loader behind him. Tim jumps when it is thrown at his feet and eyes Nephele warily. “That’s not Auloniad, is it?”

“Negative. Auloniad is following Hesperides around in the garden.”

“Those two are awfully chummy, huh?” Tim observes offhandedly, immediately stripping the internal hardware out.

“Auloniad wishes to interface with Hesperides.” Tim chokes and has to take a minute to remember how to breath.

“Nephele,” he wheezes and the bot stands proud. Tim shakes his head, a wide grin spreading across his face, and returns to work.

Time bleeds together on Pandora, but it doesn’t mean a thing to Tim. He works on Felicity, tends to his garden, socializes with his Loaders, and sleeps when he’s tired. It’s a never ending cycle, and Tim feels victorious in that he’s turned a tomb into a home. He purposefully keeps busy; if he doesn't work then the guilt and memories leave him crippled with depression. There are times when Timothy can’t bring himself to get out of bed, he’s haunted by everything, and he hates himself for being so weak. He makes it a point to visit Angel’s grave often, the visits always end in Timothy sobbing and begging for her forgiveness until Nephele comes to collect him.

Melinoe, an EXP Loader, brings him a mirror on his one year anniversary of freedom and Tim is surprised by the difference. The Pandoran sun has pulled his freckles from wherever the reconstructive surgery hid them and haphazardly splattered them across his cheekbones. The grey streak in his hair that Jack thought was stylish has begun to turn a familiar bright cherry red at its roots. Timothy learns that Jack’s hair is naturally wavy when allowed to grow long enough and not slathered with gel. Tim is definitely into the longer hair. He lets it grow past his shoulders and pulls it back into a tight ponytail when working. He’s almost as fit as he once was on Elpis, Tim probably has the steep mountainside to thank for that.

It’s not enough of a change, Jack still pours from every other physical aspect of him, but it’s enough to spurn Tim into action.

He tries to figure out who he is, tries to detangle Timothy Lawrence from Handsome Jack, but it’s a whole lot harder than it would seem. Does Jack enjoy hot bubble baths or does Timothy? Is it Timothy who can chug down cup after cup of coffee like it’s sweet manna from Heaven while Jack is simply plagued by natural insomnia or vise versa? Some of it’s much easier or can be cleared by a simple ECHOnet search. Jack’s favorite color is yellow, Timothy prefers green. Timothy is the one who can play the violin much better than Jack, surprisingly, but Jack is a pro on the saxophone.

He misses Jack.

Mourns the man who is a murderer, who exploited his own daughter, and has turned Timothy into this self-loathing mess. Tim will admit now, Jack is a horrible person, but it doesn’t stop Timothy from loving him. He spends days screaming at Helios, making his newfound hate for Jack known. He spends the nights remembering feather soft touches, honeyed words, and sweet kisses; hidden away from Helios’ watchful eye a dead lover is mourned.

As soon as the physical structure of Felicity is fixed, she tries to digistruct another Loader. Timothy scrambles to shut her off and tackles the next problem, her code. It’s tricky, Timothy’s had to walk away from the mess of numbers more than once just for the sake of his own sanity. He gets a brilliant idea when Melinoe brings him a destroyed health vending machine. He pilfers the battery and several other wires from it, much to Nephele’s displeasure, and takes off his watch.

“This is either going to be the smartest thing I’ve ever done or the end of an era,” Timothy says to no one before popping open the watch’s interface.

He uses the battery as a power source and conductor between the watch and Felicity and brings up the code on a scavenged ECHO. His heart nearly stops when he sees the wall of text and numbers; it’s way past his level of knowledge. He moves to disconnect the connection when it sparks and Felicity beeps wildly. Tim yells but his watch is glowing and Felicity’s eye is flashing an almost forgotten pattern. What’s constructed is not the Digi-Jacks that Timothy has come to expect. It’s humanoid, for certain, but has no defining features and seems uncertain of its own existence. A blank blue structure that cannot remember itself.

“Felicity?”

It turns to look at him and Tim’s breath hitches.

It takes a step forward and shatters into a pool of blue cubes and dissolves into nothingness. Felicity beeps distressingly and Timothy throws himself at her side.

“You’re alive, oh my god, you’re still in there! You’re still in there!”

Felicity is silent but Timothy is bursting with joy and lets her rest. He disconnects his watch and automatically inputs the string of numbers to summon his own doubles. It lets out a high pitched whine and flashes red before falling back to its dormant state.

“No no no no no no!”

He pops the face open again and connects it to his ECHO. He brings up the code and is met with a blue screen.

“Project Theia.exe?” Tim reads in confusion. “What the fuck is Project Theia?”

The screen turns blank and suddenly switches back to the original block of code from before. Timothy stares and tries to recall Project Theia.

Jack had personal projects that he worked on, some that never saw the light of day and some that filled some of Hyperion’s best tech. Jack showed him a few projects, even asked for Tim’s opinion, but Jack had also selfishly kept some projects to himself. Tim never asked nor minded that Jack purposefully kept him ignorant. Now, he’s bitter. He shuts down the ECHO and types in his code.

“Jack here! The real one!”

Tim stares and Jack stares back, badass red in the face with rage. Another Jack steps in his view, cool blue and smirking, and Timothy snaps out of it.

“You ok there, boss?”

“Eos, Selene,” Tim greets warmly. “It’s been awhile.”

“Since your last murder spree years ago,” Selene accuses and crosses his arms, blue lips pulled into a tight frown. Tim winces and hangs his head in shame.

“I wasn’t sure if you would be happy existing outside of battle,” Timothy admits. “I wasn’t exactly killing 24/7 up there. I tried to get you two to just hang out with me in Concordia, but you were restless and itching to fight.”

Selene pouts and Eos has the audacity to look offended. Timothy raises an eyebrow and the two doubles slump over in defeat.

“We still would’ve liked to have been by your side, Boss. It was lonely only watching, never able to help,” Eos whines.

Timothy rolls his eyes and picks up the ECHO. He gives copies with a curious look and asks, “What’s Project Theia?”

The digistructs share a look and shake their heads. Timothy scowls and repeats himself more forcefully. “What is Project Theia, guys?”

“It has to do with our code,” Eos answers and Selene squawks in indignation. “We don’t know much else.”

Tim carefully searches their faces but finds no hint of a lie. Whatever Project Theia is, it’s beyond him and merely has to do with his Digi-Jacks. On one hand, Jack wants to know more about the codework powering his own digistructs, has wanted to know about them since Jack first handed him the watch. On the other hand, he’s not willing to risk messing with code that is far beyond his own understanding. The possibility of messing something up and destroying his Digi-Jacks is horrifying. It’s no longer important. He smiles at his two copies and they hop eagerly to attention, no doubt already hoping for a fight.

“The bots are gonna love you two.”


	6. An Angel's Aspirations

“What do you want more than anything in this world, sweetie?”

Angel looks up and meets Jack's desperate face. There’s such a pitifully sincere sadness in his mismatched eyes that it almost makes the young Siren pity him. Almost. The ache of the newly installed ports on the side of her head leave her with painful migraines that last for days. The knowledge that because of what she is, a Siren of legend, Angel is to be condemned to the cold darkness of a satellite. Alone. Only alive still, perhaps, because of her usefulness to the man she calls Father. It’s torture and leaves a bubbling hate in her heart.

“Tell me how to make you happy, baby.”

She sorts through the files that she is now connected to. It’s been a source of sorrow and pain, to know everything Hyperion knows. To know the ugly side of humanity. In this rare opportunity, it helps. She flips past old data archives until she sees the one that had left her breathless. She pulls it up and displays it across Jack’s monitor.

“I want Mommy.”

○●○●○●○●

A part of Angel feels cruel and just as dirty as her father. It’s unfair. All she wants is a mother. Another parent who will love her the way that Jack cannot.

She didn’t mean to stalk the woman displayed across her screens. Nor did she mean to be so forceful in having her transferred simply so that she could cross paths with Jack. Still, such dirty underhanded tactics did gain the desired results. Angel feels guilty. Angel watches the woman that has been chosen from afar. She is beautiful and smart, a true business woman. She is incredibly charmed by Jack and likewise Jack is wholly enamored with her. Angel watches Jack give the woman that watch, Mother’s watch. The only piece of evidence that the woman who birthed Angel had once existed, Mother’s lifetime of work. Mother’s curse. They are married after a month of courtship. Angel hopes it’s love.

It’s not.

New Mother is disgusted when she meets Angel.

Angel cries when she leaves.

Knows that this New Mother is damned by the rage that grows in Jack as New Mother screams.

“Papa,” she weeps as their voices escalate. She lets Jack wrap his arms around her, lets him comfort her.

“We’ll try again, princess, don’t worry.”

Later, when she lets Jack murder their first mother, Angel feels cursed. Jack approaches her with many files of other women and she ejects the documents into space. This failure proves that Hyperion cannot provide a mother as it once did, as it once tried to. More women come and go. Always gifted that watch, always enamored with Jack, always loved by Jack. They never meet Angel. Jack refuses to marry again, and so Angel refuses them.

“What more do you want from me, Angel?” Jack yells at her when she refuses his latest fling.

“I want what you promised me for all this pain!” she screeches back. Jack snarls and leaves.

Angel watches him harshly dump the woman he’s been dating.

Jack is unbothered by her tears despite having been so seemingly happy before. Angel realizes in that moment that he could never love another. He only has enough love, enough self preservation, in his heart for himself.

Angel would never have a Mother.

They have almost given up when Dr. Autohn is hired by Hyperion.

Angel comes up with a dirty and cruel idea. So wrong that she knows that this is the only way to achieve her heart’s desires.

If Hyperion cannot provide Angel with a new mother, then Hyperion will create a whole new Father for Angel. Jack is surprised by the idea, but immediately takes to it.

They scatter the offer across the stars.

A few people come forward, eager for the promise of money that Jack absolutely does not have.

Not that they know that.

Angel sorts through the files until she finds him.

Most of the applicants are prestigious graduates; Engineers, programmers, businessmen, and even one chemist.

He is an English major.

They are good looking in their own right, pretty enough that it wouldn’t be so hard to sculpt them into Jack.

The most notable things about him are the flush of freckles across the ridge of his nose and his cherry red hair. It’s natural, apparently, a common color from his homeworld.

If accepted, the others would be missed. Mourned. They held a presence in the universe.

No one would miss him. No one would mourn him. He barely held a presence in his own family.

How this man had managed to slip into one of Hyperion’s charter colleges is a mystery.

Until Angel sees the massive amount of debt.

He was perfect.

Angel chooses Timothy Lawrence to become her new Father.

○●○●○●○●

“Angel, sweetie, meet your second dad.”

Her father kneels before her, pure awe in his eyes.

No.

Timothy Lawrence kneels before her, pure love in his eyes.

He is an exact carbon copy of Jack, but Angel can still see Timothy. Can see that desperate college graduate that she stole away to fill the hole in her heart left by her real father. Elpis couldn’t change him. Hyperion couldn’t change him. Timothy is the man that Angel wishes had fathered her. Timothy Lawrence is Jack’s gift to her, and Angel’s gift to Jack. He cannot leave her, they both made sure of that. A cruel laugh leaves her lips.

“He’s perfect!”

○●○●○●○●

Timothy Lawrence loves Angel very much.

He’s kind and soft and sweet and a better father. He visits her down on Pandora in what little free time that Jack gives him, always with some gift from some far away planet that he’s visited. The smell of death and blood follows him, just as it does with her father, but his saccharine smile and gentle words lull her into a sense of security that even Jack cannot. Angel loves to listen to his stories of those far away planets that she knows she’ll never see with her own eyes. That doesn’t stop the feeble hope in her heart.

“I want to go there someday,” Angel desperately admits one day.

Tim is in the middle of describing some planet he’s visited for Jack; a lush planet filled with crystal clear water, azure skies, and endless forests where people live in the trees. It sounds wild and beautiful, it sounds perfect. Timothy gives her a soft look and Angel attacks that moment of weakness.

“Take me there, Timothy.” Timothy shuffles uncomfortably, but Angel suspects that it’s more of her saying his real name than her begging him to disobey Jack.

He’s disobeyed Jack for her plenty times before.

Besides, Timothy’s immune to Jack’s fists by now.

She leans against the glass of her console and theatrically shudders with pain. It’s actually quite easy to fake, especially with the copious amounts of eridium being pumped through her veins. Timothy is pressed against the glass in an instant, panicked and angry.

“What’s wrong, Angel? Where does it hurt? Do you need me to stop it?”

So willing to give himself eridium poisoning, all to take away her discomfort, Angel is both flattered and perturbed. Timothy is already getting up and moving toward the main console in the next room when Angel cries out, “I hate my dad!”

Timothy freezes.

“I hate Jack,” she continues, distraught. “I hate him and I hate Hyperion and-”

“I love your dad, Angel.”

Her heart falls and breaks, her hopes of escape destroyed. Timothy turns to look at her and all she can see now is her father plastered across Tim’s features. Angel starts to cry. Timothy slowly walks back to her and sits before her, but Angel has already turned away, ignoring him.

“Go away!” Timothy leans against the glass of her cage and she screams at him. “Get away from me!”

“I love your dad, Angel,” Timothy croaks and she suddenly understands.

“You don’t want to.” Timothy nods.

“Promise me,” she says forcefully.

“Promise me you’ll take me away from him.”

“I promise.”

“Promise me that you’ll save me.”

“I promise.”

“Promise that you’ll be a better father than Jack ever was.”

“I promise.”

Angel loves her father, Timothy Lawrence, very much.

She watches him become what Handsome Jack wants him to be, watches him destroy lives and planets, watches him captivate Jack. He becomes something else, something as twisted and evil as Jack. Timothy becomes Handsome Jack.

Despite that, all she can see is Timothy’s nervous ticks and sweet smile, and loves him all the same.

She loves him, even as she saves the vault hunters. Loves him even as she helps them undermine both Jack and him.

Timothy loves her even as she disobeys his pleas, disobeys Jack’s demands. Loves her even as she prepares to take her own life.

Love between a father and his daughter is all there ever was between them. Love, even as she finds private files on Timothy’s ECHO.

Records of a ludacris deal for a whole lot of eridium by some Hyperion middle manager.

Surveillance of that Siren vault hunter.

Blueprints for her base and plans for her escape.

The vault hunters are outside her door when Angel realizes a little too late that Timothy keeps his promise.


	7. Opportunity Awaits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It...s . .- ... -.-- to...ask..for for --. .. ...- . ne...s...s...than .--. . .-. miss..i..on = It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission  
> I...for --. .. ...- . you...for...her = I forgive you for her  
>  .- -. --. . .-.. = Angel

The Loaders absolutely love the digistructs. Eos and Selene revel in the praise and awe that the Loaders give them.

“About time we get some attention!” Eos preens and Timothy can’t help but laugh.

Timothy continues to work on Felicity’s code, now with the added bonus of his digi-clones willing to help. He recognizes Jack’s handiwork and isn’t really surprised. The constructor was Gladstone's magnum opus. If anyone had access to his personal work it would be Jack. They manage to disable the function that compulses Felicity to try to create new Loaders. Melinoe brings him a voice box with a multitude of pre-recorded phrases from the Voice of Hyperion. They face the dilemma of Felicity having to make due with the phonics she had, leaving her to speak half in a slow choppy rumble and half in flashing morse code. It’s an awful hassle but Felicity seems to love it, and so do the rest of the Loaders. Timothy learns to love it. He plies her with questions of the long dead AI, and she’s understandably ignorant of the sacrifices that lead to her creation. She’s not Felicity. Tim wasn’t even sure where the original prototype that housed the original AI was. It had always been a fool’s hope, there were hundreds of constructors made and destroyed all over the universe. It was probably better that the Dahl AI was dead. When Timothy finishes explaining

“It...s . .- ... -.-- to...ask..for for --. .. ...- . ne...s...s...than .--. . .-. miss..i..on,” Felicity decides once Timothy is done telling the constructor of her namesake and origins.

Timothy slumps over in guilt. She hums and floats closer to him and Timothy leans against her frame.

“I...for --. .. ...- . you...for...her.”

It’s nearing the anniversary of Timothy’s second year of freedom when he finally decides to try venturing out with the Loaders.

He sets his sights on Opportunity, distant but visible from the very top of the mountain.

Hyperion’s crown jewel, Jack’s blessed vision, and Tim’s legacy. Jack and Tim both had poured their hopes and dreams into building Opportunity.

They spent days, weeks, month building and rebuilding, designing and redesigning, their perfect utopia. They laid the foundation for the city and kept careful watch over its construction; everything had to be perfect. It was a waste that the city would never reach completion, almost symbolic in a way that rubbed Timothy the wrong way. He digs the scarf and combat helmet from the bottom of a loot chest turned closet. He summons Selene and Eos and holds up the two items.

“Yeah no way,” Selene snarks. Eos nods in agreement. “It’s tacky, Other Me!”

“I know, I know,” Timothy replies with bemusement, “but I would much rather not be recognized by any of the locals, and this handsome mug is very popular down here.”

“Fine, but there is no way I’m copying the hair,” Eos relents, Selene nodding in agreement. Timothy frowns and reaches up to run his hand through overgrown bangs.

“The hell’s wrong with my hair?”

The digi-clones share a look before circling Timothy like a pair of judgmental sharks. Tim shuffles from foot to foot, scowling as they make disapproving noises. A ragged sleeveless shirt hangs off Tim’s thin frame, three sizes too big, half-assedly tucked into ripped khaki shorts with a dirty yellow Hyperion brand hoodie tied around his waist; well worn, grimy hiking boots caked with dry mud covered his feet, and he’s actually bothered to attach his holster to his thigh, his 88 Fragnum poking out from it. He pulled his hair into a loose braid down his back, as opposed to his usual ponytail. Tim’s comfortable and can actually move in his choice of scavenged wardrobe as opposed to tight jeans, but that doesn't seem to mean much to the two Digi-Jacks.

“You look like some kind of fashionless bandit,” they both say at last and Timothy squawks in indignation.

“Like a trash can smacked you across the face and you decided to thank it.”

“I will leave you both!” Timothy hisses and jams the helmet onto his head. The two closes focus and soon have matching helmets of their own. Tim wraps the scarf around his face and matching scarves wind around the clones’ necks, mimicking the one on Tim. Only their noses poke through the disguise and Timothy is satisfied. He dismisses them with the promise to summon them as soon as they arrive at Opportunity. He picks up his guns and meets Melinoe and Auloniad at the base of the mountain, quickly taking a detour to pay his respects to Angel.

“Are you ready to get jiggy,” Auloniad greets once Timothy is finished and the man laughs.

“Are you finished primping?” Melinoe prompts and Timothy only half fakes his offended look.

“You wound me, son, I thought you loved me,” Timothy gripes and Auloniad jumps in with, “You have insulted Pops, we fight to the death now Melinoe!”

Melinoe chirps and holds up his hands in mock surrender while Tim and Melinoe laugh. Melinoe kneels and holds out his hand, and Timothy climbs up onto his shoulder.

“This means you forgive me,” Melinoe clarifies and Timothy snorts out another peal of laughter.

The journey is wholly uneventful. Timothy snipes most of their obstacles from his perch on Melinoe with his barely used Skullmasher, and Auloniad rushes forward, guns blazing. The sun is setting by the time they reach the entrance of Opportunity. It’s still beautiful and pristine and Timothy wants to cry. He slips down from Melinoe’s shoulder and races toward the city. Time has not changed a single thing and Timothy finally feels at home.

A bullet whizzes past and he throws himself down with a yelp, fingers flying across the watch on his wrist.

“Boss!”

Auloniad and Melinoe are at his side in an instant, quickly followed by the newly materialized digi-doubles. A robotic cry of “Intruders!” has Timothy suddenly understanding. He sits up, tugging at his disguise.

“Don’t shoot, idiots! It’s me!”

“Hold fire!” “Standing down.” “Sexy 2.0 detected.” Timothy huffs and approaches the squadron of Loaders, flanked by his posse.

“Who’ve guessed that you guys were still operational,” he grins.

A Super Badass Loader pushes to the front and stands tall. Tim swears that he feels Auloniad stiffen, but he sets that aside for later and gives the Loader before him his attention. It scans him and Timothy feels insulted. “Handsome signature detected, transferring core keys. Awaiting instructions, sir.” Timothy’s ECHO beeps and a sharp grin spreads across his face.

“Well? You hunks of scraps just gonna stand around all day or are you going to take me to the central control?”

“This way, sir!”

The Loader turns and begins to head deeper into Opportunity’s office complex precinct. Something in Timothy clicks and he’s swaggering after the Loader. Auloniad and Melinoe follow him closely, but the two Digi-Clones stay put.

“Boss?”

This is Opportunity, an untouchable masterpiece that they ran themselves ragged for; that he ran poured blood, sweat, and tears into. With sleek building catching and reflecting the dying rays of Pandora’s fading sunlight, and smooth order that was unobtainable anywhere else planetwide.

What the hell had he been doing on that crumby mountaintop?

He could’ve been here, in Opportunity, living like the King he was meant to be!

“BOSS!”

The two disguised Digi-Clones construct before Tim in a pixelated burst of red and blue. He blinks and stops; they’re agitated for some reason, Timothy realizes. He looks around for a threat but finds none. He shoots them an annoyed look and Selene stomps his foot in equal annoyance.

“What the hell was that, boss?” Selene snaps.

Timothy raises his hands in a shrug, but it doesn’t satisfy Selene so Eos steps in with, “You looked spaced out, dangerous, are you ok, Boss?”

Timothy stares at them blankly before slowly answering.

“I’m fine.”

The two shift, apparently still not satisfied, but something like anger surges in Timothy and he waves them away. They yelp in shock and betrayal but still deconstruct in a glitched poof of pixels. Auloniad and Melinoe shuffle uncomfortably and Tim sends them a brilliant smile, hoping to calm them. It doesn’t, but Timothy also doesn’t realize that.

They continue on through the office plaza and Timothy can almost picture it crowded with worker bees running from one office building to another.

It hurts, a reminder of what could have been, of what will never be. Timothy smothers a growing ache in his chest and enters the tallest most obnoxious yellow skyscraper Hyperion had the balls to make; the main Hyperion office in Opportunity. On the top floor of that building was a near replica of Jack’s office on Helios, and the central command center that held the power over all of Opportunity. Timothy slides into the stiff chair behind the desk, brushes off a thin layer of dust, and boots up the central computer.

The whole of Opportunity unfurls before his eyes and Timothy Lawrence slips. He reboots all the security measures; turrets whirl calibrate, security cameras whirl to life, and a shield generator activates and engulfs Opportunity in its safe wards. Energy sparks through the city’s veins, a low hum of white noise. He finds a small group of survivors, freeloaders a voice in his head corrects, in one of Opportunity’s ritzier apartment complexes. Without a thought, he sends a group of Loaders their way and smiles wickedly when he sees red.

This is his city and his city alone, no one else deserves it; not Hyperion, not Pandora.

He spends the night cooped up in that office, designing code that would help Loaders block off, if not complete, the lesser developed parts of Opportunity like the Waterfront district and the Pits. He barks out demands for caffeine and food but otherwise stays glued to the mess of numbers and letters on his desktop. Elpis has reached its zenith across the inky black sky and Timothy feels his caffeine crash coming on when it happens.

A burst of light catches his attention from the edge of his periphery. Melinoe, who had faithfully stayed by his side, let out a cry of wonder and Tim decides that whatever that was deserves his attention. He looks out the window, and whatever reprimand that had been on the tip of his tongue dies.

Helios is bright and aflame. It sparks brilliantly and Tim watches in horror as it begins its slow descent.

Down, down, down it falls, crumbling apart and scattering its debris everywhere.

Down, down, down falls Timothy’s heart and his breath hitches; he can’t look away from the death of Helios no matter how much he wants to.

Helios falls and crashes, Timothy falls with it.

He feels the rumble of the earth as it impacts the surface, a more logical part of Timothy’s brain helpfully supplies that that’s impossible. It landed far away, in the Dust most likely, if not some other vast wild desert Pandora had to offer. He’s laughing, he’s crying and screaming and gasping for air all at once. A multitude of emotions are fighting for the right of acknowledgement, but Timothy settles for panic.

He’s having a panic attack.

Melinoe is kneeling as best as possible before him, holding him steady, Auloniad behind him beeping worriedly. He wants to thank them, praise his boys for being so supportive, but his chest is still too tight and it’s hard to breath. The Super Badass Loader makes an appearance just as the two have manages to assuage him to a more manageable state. It stands to attention and Timothy surges forward with an inner strength that is already fading.

“Keep them away, Atë!” Tim hisses. “No living thing with a pulse, aside from me, is to enter Opportunity!”

“Affirmative, sir,” the newly named Loader, Atë, agrees and turns away.

Tim feels sick and another attack crawling in the distance.

“Pop, we should get you to Nephele,” Auloniad warbles out.

Tim feels so tired. He can’t do much more other than drape himself across one of Auloniad’s guns and whine pitifully. His breath is starting to shorten again and he feels itchy.

“Take me home.” Timothy is already halfway through another panic attack when they reach the mountain base. He’s being pushed back into his bed before he’s even aware of their arrival home. Nephele is speaking softly, as softly as a Loader Bot can at least, encouraging him to relax and breath. Tim keens and tries to reach out for Nephele.

“You need sleep, Pops,” the bot tries to argue, but leans down anyway.

Timothy clings to his arm and tries to steady his breathing, his thoughts a muddled disarray rattling around his head. He hears Melinoe and Auloniad try to explain their adventure to Hesperides, but they all sound so far away. His heart beats wildly out of synch with an uncontrollable buzz in his body.

“Sleep.”

He gives Felicity a pitiful look and she beeps sympathetically in response.

“Sleep,” she repeats, as if it were that easy.

She’s trying to comfort him; Timothy can at least give her credit there.

“Can’t,” he croaks out. “Scared.”

The admission pulls a weight off his chest and Timothy breaths in deep gulps of air. It’s easier to breath, but his stomach is still in knotts and his thoughts scattered. He’s so tired. Nephele hums and begins to vibrate. It’s comforting and Tim presses his forehead against Nephele’s arm.

Safe.

He’s safe and lets himself be lulled to sleep, surrounded by his makeshift family. He dreams of Helios. He dreams of it’s narrow hallways and of it wide, high arched ones. He dreams of the wide expanse that makes up the Hub of Heroism, remembers the background of chatter that filled it and the scent of coffee that could never be chased away. The cold conference rooms that always held the hint of antiseptic and blood, but were still considered the best places to be; ideas were borne in those rooms, ludacris deals were struck there, and money made in those unforgiving rooms. He had fought and bled for that space station long ago with four other amazing mercenaries when it was barely operational, when he was still just a disposable double. It had been home to him for such an important part of his life, he missed it now that he could no longer go back. He would never look up toward the sky and see the ever watchful Eye of Helios ever again.

Whoever brought down Helios had wiped out the last of Hyperion and of Jack.

It had to be sabotage, there was no other explanation.

When he finally wakes ups, Timothy refuses to leave his bed, too sick with the thoughts that ravage his mind.

Someone brought down Helios.

Someone murdered thousands of not quite innocent but still pretty blameless people. Who didn’t have their hands stained in a world like, especially when they worked for the best gun company throughout the known galaxies? Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters: gone. Uncles who showed up maybe once a year with fat checks to spoil their nieces and nephews. Aunts who held their wine glasses tightly and threw their heads back in drunken laughter. A grandparent who enthralls the next set of future Hyperion employees with stories of survival in Helios’ cutthroat environment.

Gone.

Nephele finally manages to coax him out of bed and gets him to swallow down a meal of raw vegetables and dried skag strips. Hesperides bullies him into watering the flourishing garden, ready to push if Timothy stalls for too long or begins to glance up toward the empty sky. Melinoe and Auloniad dance around him, unsure of how to deal with Timothy’s saudade. He doesn’t blame them, he feels wrong somehow. A practiced rage kindles in his gut. Betrayal, he feels betrayed. How and why, by whom, he doesn’t know, but it grows as time slips by. Tim feels trapped. The home he’s built feels too small and vulnerable. If Helios can be taken down, what was stopping that assassin from coming for him, for his Bot boys, for his Felicity. He can’t let any harm come to his new family. Jack and Angel are gone, dead, but Tim can’t let that happen to Felicity and his Bots.

“We’re moving!” Tim announces when they settle down for a meal.

Meal time is real just the six of them gathering on the top platform to rest and spend time together. Sometimes Tim eats, but it’s mostly just family time for them. It works in his favor now as he announces his decision. The Loaders are less than pleased by this.

“Where?” “But the garden!” “Why, Pops?” “We can not go!”

Timothy shushes and the Bots quiet. He gives them an imploring smile and proceeds to explain, “Helios is gone, whatever protection it may have awarded us is dead with it. We now run the real risk of being invaded, probably by something much more deadly than the shitty Slabs on our doorstep!”

“Like Vault Hunters?” Nephele asks. Tim shrugs in response.

“Yeah, maybe, or other companies.”

Felicity softly beeps, drawing their attention.

“ .- -. --. . .-.. ?” Felicity questions.

Tim’s throat dries for a moment, but he forces his fear down and presses through.

“There are four other Constructors left in Opportunity,” Tim assures, “We can create more Loaders to guard her grave.”

Felicity begins to beep out another phrase but Timothy cuts her off.

“This isn’t up for debate!” he snaps. “We’re moving to Opportunity.”


	8. Stories End, Pandora Does Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every woman who meets Timothy has a strong urge to adopt him

Over the course of three Pandoran day cycles and two nights, Tim, Melinoe, and Auloniad are able to drag most of their belongings to the Hyperion city.

They take over the most ostentatious building in Opportunity’s residential district. It would have served as Tim and Jack’s home once Opportunity was up and running.

Now it was Tim’s alone, spacious and empty. It brings an ache of loneliness to his heart. At the same time being surrounded by familiar Hyperion yellow and style makes him feel a happy sort of sentimental. Each Bot gets their own floor to do with as they wish and they love it.

 Melinoe fills his with shiny trinkets and makeshift bombs. Tim is afraid of him one day giving in to his programming and offers to deactivate the bomb in him. Melinoe refuses, but is thankful for the option. There’s always something on fire in his floor, but Tim only scolds him when the fire alarms go off. He can’t take away the desire for destruction from him, but he can at least let the Bot find outlets for it.

Auloniad and Hesperides punch a hole in the floor and connect their two floors. They’re so domestic and cute in their shameless flirting that Tim doesn’t have the heart to scold them. The city holds a celebration when the two announce that they are finally together.

Nephele turns his floor into a makeshift hospital ward and Loaders of all types are grateful. Tim watches with pride as Nephele cares for damaged Loaders and readily passes on his knowledge to other ION Loaders.

Felicity, special girl that she is, gets her own building. Not because Timothy wants her to, but because she forces the other Constructors to move in with her. They all really get into trying to construct non-metallic things. Felicity’s best attempt was a barely flexible metal piece made of strong polymer that Timothy proudly displays where the dead body of Bloodwing once was.

Even Atё is granted a level, two really due to his height, as Timothy has made him Opportunity’s overseer. The floors remains mostly plain and spotless, but slowly fills with pictures of fluffy dogs and drooling Skags. Tim prefers cats, but doesn’t say a word.

Timothy feels a sense of accomplishment. His family is safe, expanded even as he begins to name and love each new Loader both surviving and constructed, the city is secured and armed to the teeth, Atё made sure of that, and nothing out of the ordinary has occurred since the fall of Helios.

He sends out scouts but all they bring back are bandit activities, but that doesn’t interest Tim. He thinks about picking up a project but decides against it. Every time he tries a tingling feeling crawls down his spine and he finds himself displaying mannerisms that he hadn’t since Jack’s death.

Selene and Eos had been right.

He apologizes to them and is forgiven, though Selene makes it a point to lecture him for being a rude asshole. Tim has them by his side constantly after that. Though her grave is well protected, Timothy is constantly worried for Angel. It’s not so easy to visit her grave anymore and Tim misses the ability to just talk to her. He takes trips to visit her when he can, which is not as often as he would like considering all his free time.

As beautiful as Opportunity is, it is still only half finished.

His time is usually spent trying to finish some sections while blocking out other sections entirely. Melinoe is the one who suggests a family trip back to the Bunker when Timothy expresses his longing. He thinks on it a bit and comes to the conclusion that nothing bad could come from a visit.

A whole platoon of Loaders is guarding the mountain.

Tim is a capable ex-vault hunter.

His bots have survived an assault on their station by other vault hunters and are stronger for it.

They’ve all made the trip many times before.

They should be fine.

○●○●○●○●

“Hey, baby girl,” Tim greets warmly, sitting cross legged before Angel’s grave.

“Sorry we’ve been gone so long, it must’ve been so lonely. Is Zadkiel remembering to bring you fresh flowers, sweetie?”

There is no response, but Timothy is already responding to her non-existent answer.

“That’s good, baby, I’m so glad. I was worried about you. I don’t want you to think that I abandoned you...again. You, you know I didn’t, right, honey? You know Pops would never do something like that, right pumpkin?”

He’s arranging and rearranging the flowers in her chipped vase, nervous suddenly. Something feels wrong. They’re being watched.

“Angel,” Timothy whispers, a growing rage building in him. “Look away, baby. Pops has to take care of the monsters bothering you.”

Zadkiel, an Angelic Guard, is already by his side, eye already building up energy. He gives the Loader a small nod of acknowledgement, pulling his pistol from its holster. He sets the combat helmet on and wraps the scarf around his face.

“Guard her.”

“Affirmative, sir.”

Tim runs off and joins the other Loaders at the edge of the deterrent gate. The turrets are shooting at a group of what look like Dahl soldiers, but the color scheme is off. It doesn’t matter, Tim decides, and pushes forward next to Auloniad, who stands at the front of the group.

“The turrets are almost down,” he says as a greeting and Timothy groans.

The Bot’s words ring true and the turrets explode into black plumes of smoke and sparking yellow metallic scraps. Timothy growls and begins to shoot. The Loaders spring forward and meet the soldiers in the already battle worn no man’s land. Tim pauses briefly only to summon Selene and Eos, but otherwise keeps shooting. Two bullets ricochet off his shield and Tim dives behinds a protective Eos as his shield builds its energy back. He’s grateful and regretful that Felicity did not come with them, they could use the backup, but Timothy can only imagine her being targeted immediately. A crash resounds and he watches one of Angel’s protectors fall, systems offline, dead. He growls and launches himself at a soldier. His fist connects with their cheek and the two tumble to the floor. The soldier cries out and tries to shove him off, but Timothy cuts him off with a resounding shot. He loots the ammo from the body and stands, only to get body checked by another soldier. They go down and Timothy snarls and wriggles as hands wrap around his throat. The soldier slumps over, releasing Tim, and the man struggles up, gasping for air. He’s expecting Selene or Eos or any one of the many Loaders to be there, but the two Digi-Clones are far off protecting the gate from waves of soldiers and each Loader is engaged in combat. Instead, a familiar yet strange man stands before him, blue eyed and sandy brown hair. It takes Tim a moment to connect where he’s seen this man. The Commando. The murderer. He’s wearing the same colors as the soldiers. His eyes are wide and he’s saying something, but Timothy can’t hear him over the sound of blood rushing through his head.

“You child murdering sunnova bitch!” Timothy howls and throws himself at the suddenly stunned Commando.

He’s punching and clawing at the Commando, who’s yelling and trying to shove him off. Timothy is too far gone, doesn’t feel the battle around him, can’t hear the voices calling for him, won’t see anything but red. He needs this.

“Get off of me!”

“Axton!”

Something solid connects against his helmet and Tim falls to the side, shocked. There’s a ringing in his head, he feels disoriented. It takes him a couple seconds to recover but it’s long enough for the Commando to grab Tim by the scarf and pull. It’s too tight and Tim chokes, eyes widening and hands flying up to claw at the Commando’s face. Another pair of hands suddenly lash out and pulls his hands away; he’s trapped and being choked to death. He struggles and tries to call out, but the Commando and his mystery partner are stronger and the lack of oxygen leaves him weaker and weaker. His vision grows fuzzier, darker, and he thinks of Angel.

“Jezzus Ax, don’t kill the guy.”

“I’m not!”

Timothy whines and is forced into an unwanted darkness.

○●○●○●○●

“When I woke up, I was here,” Timothy finishes.

There is a moment of silence as Timothy’s tale is digested. Quiet, purposeful footfalls sound as Sasha approaches with a magnanimous look on her face. Attention focuses on her as she slowly approaches Timothy, Athena immediately pulls him close again and tries to shield him from her with her body. Sasha glances at her, slowing down even more, but does not completely stop. Fiona, Gaige, and August crowd the door with Axton as Sasha languidly reaches into a pouch on her belt and pulls out a knife.

“Don’t,” Athena warbles dangerously. “Don’t you dare, don’t come any closer.”

Timothy watches in silence, eyeing the knife with an almost longing look. Athena and Sasha continue to stare at each other as the distance shortens with each step, the tension and anxiety spreading throughout the room.

“S-Sasha stop!” Rhys blurts out suddenly, unable to take the stress in the room. He moves to take a step forward, but Vaughn determinedly blocks his away. The two share an unreadable look. Sasha, undeterred by Rhys’ outburst, stands before a trembling Athena and an all too calm Timothy.

“Don’t,” Athena chokes out, unsure of her own emotions.

The only thing permeating her mind are the similarities between Timothy and her lost beloved sister; their smiles, their laughter, and their tears. She feels unsteady, but knows with certainty that she would fight all of Atlas once more for Timothy Lawrence. Timothy, on the other hand, gives Sasha a staccato smile that makes Sasha’s stomach lurch.

“Killing you would be so gratifying,” Sasha begins thickly. Athena gives her a threatening look as opposed to the almost hopeful look that Timothy gives her. Fiona takes a step forward in shock, mouth opening to stop her sister, but August catches her by the arm. Sasha turns the knife, holding it by the blade, and offers the handle to Athena. The gladiator blinks, stunned, and gawks at the younger woman. Timothy looks betrayed.

“For all the horrible and twisted things that Handsome Jack had done, that you’ve helped him do, you probably deserve this,” Sasha continues, a dark look beginning to shadow her face, “You need to live with the stupid-ass decisions you’ve made, and suffer their absence.”

Athena takes the knife and begins to hack away at the ties holding Timothy. The man in question hangs his head, allowing Athena to manhandle him. Sasha turns on her heel, sends the executive trio a hard look, and leads Athena and a mollified Timothy toward the door. August and the Vault Hunters at the door part for the three, watch with bated breath as they exit, and turn to the trio still in the room. Vaughn and Yvette glance at Rhys. The lanky man shrugs.

“I guess...we got what we needed?”

Sasha leads them down hallways, up elevators, and through a foyer. The two women share a look as Athena drags Timothy over the threshold of the grand entrance. Light momentarily blinds Timothy, blinking it away he suddenly finds himself wishing for the freshness of Three Horns Valley. Old Haven was dusty and dirty, cracked concrete and half build new buildings against old crumbling ones. Atlas was everywhere and a surge of Hyperion pride drove Timothy to scowl at the white logo. He finally notices the Fast Travel machine that Athena is leading him to and a glimmer of hope flutters in his chest. Home. He leans against Athena as she begins to type in coordinates.

“Wait, no!”

Athena pauses to glance at Timothy, who has noticed the unfamiliar coordinates. A silent question passes and Timothy gives Athena a sheepish look.

“I thought, I thought I was going…”

Athena looks guilty but shakes her head.

“Rhys is a good man,” Athena sighs, returning to the string of half finished numbers on the machine. “However, he’s also a company man with two dead corporations to care for. He wouldn’t just let the chance to get into Opportunity slip away.”

“Seems like he just did,” Timothy grumbles, burying his face in Athena’s shoulder. The gladiator chuckles and clicks on the machine. The familiar feeling of being sucked through a tube fills them; digitized pain that came with deconstruction and careful reconstruction and the headache that came from the too bright blue. Timothy is still getting over the dizziness when he feels Athena leave his side completely. He doesn’t even bother trying to take in his new surroundings, immediately stumbling after Athena. Timothy catches up to her and notices the garage for the first time. It was clean, in an organized clutter sort of way, with the same logo from the annoying Catch-A-Ride machines.

“Honey, I’m home,” Athena calls out, “I brought someone.”

A door off to the side, behind the main vehicles, swings open and reveals one ever smiling Janey Springs. Timothy and Janey take one look at each other and race across the room, squealing their delight at being able to once again see each other after so long.

“Oh Janey, I’m so glad you’re ok!"

“Crickey, haven’t seen you in ages! Oh Tim! Oh! Missed the devil out of you!”

Athena watches fondly as Janey looks over Timothy, checking him for any injuries. Timothy tries to reassure her, but Janey hushes him with a reassuring grin and a wink. He’s quick to lie when Janey finds some scar or another, but the ex-moon dweller can see right through his act, even if she didn’t call him out on it. Once the initial check up is done, the two launch into a quick game of catch up, with Timothy giving Janey the most sugar coated version possible. Janey glances at Athena briefly during Timothy’s story, and Athena tries to convey her assurance that she would hear the full unedited version later that night. Janey begins to lead an animated Timothy toward the living quarters of the garage in the back and Athena surges forward to walk in step with them, hand finding Janey’s and holding fast. The two women are more than happy to lead Timothy to the unused guest room and Timothy is grateful for the privacy. Athena leaves the two, still talking as they air out the sheets and blankets, and ventures out of the garage and out into the town. “Where’s she going?” Timothy questions, abruptly stopping his own story about Melinoe trying to fight a wall to watch Athena’s retreating back.

“Probably doesn’t want you to see her all mushy,” Janey assures quickly him.  “I know she’s super happy to have you here Tim, so am I.”

Timothy shyly preens under the loving words and makes a move to open the window in an attempt to hide how happy he himself felt. Janey made no move to stop him, but Timothy found himself wishing she had once the window was open. Endless clouds and azure blue sky for as far as the eye could see, and cold, cold, too cold, wind whistling all around. Old acrophobia kicks in and suddenly Timothy feels sick. Abruptly, he has an inkling of where he is, knows for certainty what would happen to him if he was caught here, but that's not what bothers him the most.

“Oh god, high, so very, very high up.”

Janey laughs sympathetically and eases him down onto the bed. He clings to her, as if that would make the tremors of the moving floor, that he was now very attuned to, stop. Janey hums soothingly as Timothy shakes, and pets his hair.

“Your hair’s gotten so long,” Janey calmly points out, easing Timothy’s attention away from his fear.

“Nephele never trusted me to cut my hair,” Tim explains absently, “Probably didn’t help that I kinda, sorta, maybe tried to cut more than my hair once.”

Janey’s breath hitches and Timothy instantly regrets his word.

“Timothy.”

Janey crushes him in her strong embrace and Timothy is momentarily stunned as the sweetest woman he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting begins to cry. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, but Timothy find himself wrapping his arms around her and soothingly rubs circles into the small of her back. He holds Janey and Janey pulls him closer; It’s warm and secure in a way that leaves Timothy tearing up as well. It’s been too long since he was held by another, and the one who had held him just as lovingly would never return. They lay together, mourning the loss of an innocence.


	9. Sanctuary or Prison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that Athena and Janey have their wedding in Borderlands 3, or at least have like pictures from their wedding. TFTBL gave me their engagement, TPS gave me their meeting. Give me married domesticity BL3!!

When Timothy awakens, it’s to thin white sheets and the smell of something delicious wafting through his partially opened door. Panic surges him to rise and reach for his gun, mixes with fear when he feels nothing hanging from his thigh, and then dissipates slowly as the memories of the previous events roll through. Tim groans and slouches back onto the mattress, only to rise again and give it a disgusted look when he realizes how uncomfortable it actually was. He feels homesick and for the first time, despite having mentioned them at length previously, Timothy clearly remembers his bots and worries for them.

He thinks of Felicity, anxiously awaiting their return to Opportunity, perhaps already assuming the worst.

Thinks of Melinoe and Auloniad, both of whom had thrown themselves into battle alongside Timothy, prays that they are safe. Hesperides had hung back with the other Angelic Guards, but Timothy had no delusions of the BUL Loader not rushing forward if something had befallen Auloniad. Nephele had to be beside himself with guilt and worry, if he wasn’t dead. He had stayed right by Angel’s grave, the last line of defense for her sacred grounds.

He should have asked about them.

Unfortunately, Timothy’s stomach betrays the guilt he feels. All that he an do now is try and get his watch back from Athena and see what will happen now. He follows the mouth-watering scent, ignoring his traitorous growling stomach, and eventually finds his way into a small kitchenette. It’s windowless and illuminated by a tangle of three bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Appliances sit snug against each other, worn from use like everything seems to be on this damn planet.

Athena is at the stove, expertly flipping what Timothy is sure was suppose to be a pancake, but seemed just a bit too thick. Janey is leaning on her, munching on a slice of toast, watching with amusement. Athena doesn’t seems to mind the crumbs that her girlfriend is leaving on her shoulder, but does seem to pout when Janey tries to kindly point out the disaster that the pancake is quickly becoming. Timothy watches the domestic scene before him from the threshold, and notes the three plates piled with steaming eggs and glistening bacon on a rickety table. Athena makes a noise of frustration and flips the pancake onto the small stack of three identical ones on a plate next to the stove, just on the counter, and Timothy has to chuckle. The sides are a dark burn brown, but Timothy can see the creamy undercooked batter poking through the middle of the literal cake that the pancake has become.

“You know, you do have a waffle maker just, like, right there,” Timothy offers helpfully, pointing off to the untouched unplugged appliance sitting on a rack next to the sink. Athena greets him with a dirty look as Janey laughs out, “That’s what I told her!”

“I remember you telling me once that you liked pancakes,” Athena huffed, “Honestly, it shouldn't have been this hard.” “You know, they’re really not,” Timothy snickers. Janey laughs with her and Timothy bites down on his smile as Athena fixes him with a cold look. She pours more batter, too much Timothy internally winces, onto the pan and takes the plate with her cakes and dumps it into a small trash bin under the sink. He takes a step forward to eye the thickness in the pan, Janey snorts and sits at the table. Athena passes Timothy to join her girlfriend, barely stopping to shove the spatula into Tim’s hands. Timothy gives her a curious look as Athena begins to help herself.

“I dare you to do better,” she challenges threateningly and Timothy jerks toward the stove with a practiced award-winning smile fixed upon his lips.

“I like to think I picked up a little culinary know how,” Tim draws confidently. Athena and Janey watch in mild interest as Timothy takes absolute control. Within minutes, he has a stack of fluffy delectable looking pancakes and Athena begrudgingly claps along with a proud Janey. Timothy gives a flourishing bow and divides the stack into three piles and serves them. Athena and Janey, having already finished their eggs and bacon, dive straight into the sweet hotcakes. Timothy scoops a spoonful of cold eggs into his mouth and grins brightly when the two girls make noises of appreciation.

“These are so good,” Janey praises while Athena thanks him.

Tim swallows and watches them take in a few more bites before nervously admitting, “Jack was stress baker. I picked up some recipes here and there.”

Neither one look fazed, in fact, Tim has captured their curiosity. Janey gives him an encouraging nod that Athena copies and Timothy gladly continues.

“He was really good at it, actually. Taught me how to cook and bake too. It was nice, cooking together and baking, even if I didn’t, uh...y’know. I didn’t get to eat much of it.”

Timothy shoves a whole pancake in his mouth, resolutely ignoring the look that the two women shared. He expects the question that Athena seems to have, but Janey interrupts, voice tight and too optimistic.

“Well, I hope we get to eat some of those yummy recipes with you.” A knot wraps around Timothy’s heart and he returns Janey’s warm smile.

“I..I’d like that, actually.” Breakfast passes by in a semi-comfortable silence. Timothy willingly takes dish-washing duty, still unsure of how to bring up his desire to return home to Opportunity. Janey stretches and gives Athena a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Time to open up!” she sings and wanders out of the kitchen, presumably out to the main garage. Athena patiently sits at the table, studying a now tense Timothy. He’s well aware of her gaze, but says nothing. Athena signs and finally breaks the silence.

“You know you can’t leave, right?”

“And why is that?” Timothy snaps, slamming the dish he was scrubbing down into the sink. He turns to face Athena with a scowl. Athena looks tired and despondent, and Timothy almost falters. The distant sounds of Janey and another voice reach them, laughter, and emotions surge through Timothy. Any chances of him deciding to submit to Athena’s reasoning disappears and he feels betrayed.

“They know,” he snarls. Athena signs and stands, easily catching the punch Timothy swung toward her.

“They know I’m here, don’t they Athena!”

Athena looks guilty but says nothing. Timothy feels an old rage begin to fill his heart, Jack’s rage. Timothy tries to pull away, but Athena tightens her grip.

“Let me go!”

“No, Timothy, listen!”

“I’m done being betrayed by everyone I know!” Timothy yells, making Athena flinch. It feels oddly satisfying to see such a reaction from such a strong person. “I just want to go home,” Timothy whispers, shoving down practiced instincts to tear into the small weakness that Athena had briefly exposed.

“I want mourn my lover and my daughter in peace, for the rest of my life, and die with my Loaders.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Athena counters. “You don’t have to think about Handsome Jack or Hyperion or even Pandora anymore!”

Timothy blinks in confusion. Athena leaps at the chance and continues on.

“If you want to go home, Timothy, then I can help you,” she urges.

There’s the sound of approaching footsteps. Tim turns toward the sound, but Athena catches his face in her hand and forces him to face her. With emotions so openly displayed on her face, Timothy finds himself marveling at how much she’s changed since Elpis. She’s softer and kinder, and Timothy wonders if Janey helped her become so.

“I can take you back to Astrea, I can take you back to your homeplanet.”

Astrea was a little planet divided between rural farmland and suburbia. There were no real big cities on Astrea. The capital was barely any bigger than Opportunity, and was certainly not as grand or impressive. Life had been blissfully peaceful and passed by in a whirling hazy heat with endless blue skies and idyllic happiness. Timothy was the middlest child in a too large family, another identical son in a sea of brown eyes, red hair, and freckled faces. Tim grew up happy and cared for, content with the knowledge that he would never have claim to the family farm. His eldest brother and eldest sister fought for their claims, and who was Timothy to try and take that away from the wise brother who taught him how to shock wheat and the clever sister who had occasionally slipped Timothy a couple bills from the farm’s earnings? Timothy spend his youth divided between his parents’ farm and his uncle’s home in the capital, Probity. During the week, he would watch his elder siblings work the land while he and his younger siblings caused mischief and raced through the family wheatfields. During the weekend, he’s climb into his father’s run down old pickup truck with his brothers and sisters and wander the streets of Probity, seeking concret dreams and a way out of farmlife. It was home. It had been home. Timothy hadn’t really thought of his home planet in so long. Since Timothy had abandoned his individuality for Jack. Truthfully, he had stopped calling it home long before that. There was no desire to return, the boy that Timothy had been before college had already been forgotten by family once he had left the farm; There was too much to do and too many younglings to keep track of. On the cold, deadly surface of Elpis, Tim had dreamed of the comforts of home and of the love so freely given. On Helios, Jack’s affection and Hyperion’s adoring eyes had surpassed the want for anonymity on Astrea.

Although, Timothy was sure that Athena wouldn’t like to hear all this. He chose, instead, to ask the more obvious question.

“And how would you get us off this dumpy planet without a ship? Didn’t really see one on the way in, and I doubt Atlas really has the time or money to build one. Let alone gift it to Handsome Jack’s body double.”

“He’s got a point there, Athena.”

Timothy jumped and turned his head as Athena released him. There at the doorway stood Lilith, smug and relaxed. A boiling rage burst through Timothy, leaving him breathless. He shuffled backwards, even as his hands clasped and unclasped in the undeniable urge to punch or choke. Lilith remained nonplussed, in fact she even grinned directly at him.

“Sup.”

“I just want to go home to my bots.”

The words were ragged and said through clenched teeth. Being here with the Siren was dangerous, both for Timothy and for Lilith, but the firehawk still didn’t seem to realize. Lilith turned to speak to Athena, who gave Timothy small worried glances from time to time. Now would be a perfect time, a little voice in Tim’s head pointed out gleefully, in one swift movement he could lunge forward and crush the Siren’s windpipe and justice would be dealt. Timothy’s hands trembled.

“Tim?”

At the sound of the Siren’s voice, Timothy snapped to attention, eyes blazing.

“Don’t you fucking call me that,” he snarled at an amused Lilith. Athena stepped in front of Lilith, hands coming up in a mock surrender sort of way.

“Timothy,” Athena warned cautiously.

Timothy forced himself to relax, looking at Athena instead of the curious Siren helped a whole lot.

“I want to go home, Athena!” Timothy repeated, much more forceful. “Just let me go home and I’ll never bother anyone ever again, please!”

“You don’t have to live in fear of Handsome Jack anymore!” Athena urged, “You don’t have to surround yourself with his dead corporation!”

Timothy opened his mouth to respond, but Lilith stepped back into view. Words died on his lips and curdled into a snarl. Lilith, for some unfathomable reason, looked genuinely confused.

“Listen, normally I’d be all for kicking the ass of any Hyperion who isn’t connected to Atlas,” Lilith sighed, “Especially one who’s wearing Handsome Jack’s face.” Timothy rolled his eyes and Lilith laughed in agreement. Athena watched the exchange, still worried and ready to step between the two.

“The only reason that I’m ok with you being here is because we need all the Vault Hunters we can get, and Axton ECHOed me and vouched for you. Besides, people here know that Handsome Jack is dead and that Hyperion got swallowed by Altas,” Lilith continued, “No one is going to be scared by a copy, no matter how good. Especially since the Vault Hunters who killed Handsome Jack live here.”

Tim no longer heard her.

He felt cold grief and boiling rage all at once. The only outward response was a long whine as Tim slumped against the kitchen wall. Lilith blinked in surprise and stepped forward to help him up. Athena grabbed her by her wrist and shoved past her. Athena tried to calm Timothy but he was already hyperventilating.

“They aren’t gonna hurt him,” Lilith lamely tried to comfort.

Athena glared at the now awkward Siren.

“Uh, sorry.”

Athena turned back to Timothy, calmly helping him regulate his breathing and bringing him to stand on his own feet. He gave Athena a scared look and the gladiator’s heart clenched.

“Please don’t leave me here, Athena. Either I’m going to die or I’m going to kill someone.”

“If you kill anyone, Janey would be upset,” Athena quipped back. It drew a shaky laugh from Timothy and that was enough for Athena. She took him gently by the arm and lead him out of the kitchen. Timothy stiffened when Lilith followed behind but made no comment.

“So...I figured he could hang out with Hammerlock,” Lilith piped in as they made their way back to the main garage. “Y’know, get your old moon crew back? Part of them anyway.” Athena made a noise of offense. “Absolutely not,” Athena huffed.

“He’s staying with Janey while I try to convince Rhys to leave Timothy alone.”

Lilith snorts.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” Timothy butts in irritably.

“Yeah, Athena, doesn’t he?” Lilith snickers.

Athena and Tim both give her an annoyed look but Lilith continues on, far too pleased.

“Timmy’s a grown ass man, I think he can chose his own babysitter.”

“Actually, if I’m going to be kept prisoner here then yes, I would like to choose my jailer,” Timothy fumes. “Especially since you brought me to Sanctuary of all places!”

Athena rightfully looks chastised and Lilith laughs again. Timothy gives her a glare that she shrugs off.

“You know what Jackie Boy? I think you’re gonna be alright,” the Siren smiles and walks out of the garage. Timothy turns to Athena and crosses his arms.

“Well?” Athena gives him a pleading look. “I can’t stop you Tim, but I would really rather you stay here with Janey and prepare for the wedding then wander around with Hammerlock.”

“I’m sorry what?”

Athena scrunches her face in curiosity, unsure of what left Timothy so confused. Tim, on the other hand, is gobsmacked. It takes awhile for Athena to realize that this was most likely the first he had heard of the great news. A wide giddy smile spreads across his face as a flustered Athena shows Tim the simple gold band on her finger.

“Athena, holy shit.”

“I know.”

Tim’s grin fades as quickly as it grew and there’s a short awkward feel between the two. Timothy shuffles and sighs before looking Athena directly in the eye, who meets his firm gaze. “I’ll stay for the wedding,” he says slowly. Athena looks absolutely pleased and it makes Timothy feel torn over how much he hates and adores her approval.

“Maybe, if things get, um, well, better? I’ll think about...visiting, maybe?”

Now that Timothy knows of their residence here on Pandora, he doesn’t really want to go back to living without having Athena and Janey be a part of his life. Those feeling s must show on his face, because Athena gives him that soft look that makes Tim want to make her proud.

“Th-this doesn’t mean I’ll work with Atlas!” Timothy snaps. It feels like he’s losing somehow, and he’s suddenly scrambling for some form of power to hold on to.

“Understandable,” Athena replies smoothly. A nervous look passes across her face.

“There’s so much to tell you.”

Timothy bites his lip. He takes her hand and gives her a practiced smile. It feels like defeat somehow, like submitting to another once more. He’s signing his life way again, this time to people who both do and do not care about him. It’s terrifying.

“I’m not going anywhere, ‘thena.”


	10. Hyperion Haphazard and Atlas Abilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So in TFTBL, there's a dialouge option where Rhys reveals that Handsome Jack once spit on him. TFTBL is such a buckwild game. Also my fantasy is Hammerlock siblings having a better relationship with one another.

Living in Sanctuary was easily the worst place that Timothy ever had the displeasure of staying in.

Not only was it just a floating city hundreds of miles up high, but Athena and Janey’s humble garage that they inherited sat just at the edge of the city. Timothy nearly had a heart attack when he stepped outside and saw the endless sky only a few feet away. Janey and Athena were sympathetic enough to deal with his constant panic attacks, but other residents who came to Janey were not as kind. Many seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in seeing Handsome Jack’s doppelganger hyperventilate when turbulence rocked the city. It resulted in a few people being kicked out by a fuming Janey or raging Athena, and Timothy was ever so grateful.

News of his residency in Sanctuary traveled fast. It bothered Timothy to have so many people come to gawk at him. He felt like he was on display, a creature tamed and paraded around like a show animal. That wasn’t the reality, Athena and Janey held nothing but absolute love and affection for him, but that knowledge didn’t stop Tim from feeling so exposed.

So far, no other prominent person had come to see Timothy and that was his only relief. Seeing Lilith, a woman he had once helped Jack torture while under Hyperion’s control, had filled Tim with more than enough fear for a lifetime. He dreaded seeing anyone else. Although something told Tim that Lilith probably did not remember his actions against her. A part of him even went as far as to ponder the possible truth that she wasn’t even aware of Timothy’s true actions; perhaps she had attributed all of Timothy’s heinous actions to Jack? That seemed vastly too convenient and far too lucky, but Timothy wasn’t about to just outright seek out the fiery Siren and ask her about her time in Hyperion hands.

Timothy was more than happy to stay cooped up in Janey’s garage, thank you very much, doing measly paperwork that the mechanic neglected to do herself to pass the time. After three days of self imposed imprisonment, and a week before the wedding, Timothy found himself getting antsy. He paced the garage, hovered over Janey as she worked on whatever daily vehicle was rolled into the garage, checked and rechecked and again rechecked paperwork in the small office off to the side of the garage, and baked until he had used all of the flour, eggs, and butter in the kitchen. Athena offered to take him along back to Atlas, if only to maybe train away the excess energy in the gym with her and Fiona. Tim was tempted but the thought of having to actually socialize with real people, with ex-Hyperion employees, made him feel sick.

“You know, you’re gonna have to face people sooner or later,” Janey gently reminded him as they munched on some potato chips on Tim’s bed, watching some trashy off planet dramas over the ECHOnet.

“I know,” Tim sighs glumly. “I just...I dunno what to do with people.”

“Don’t tell me your only friendly with bots now,” Janey teased and Tim threw a chip at her. She threw a chip right back at him.

“Well, you’re gonna have to get over that soon,” Janey said lightly, “by tomorrow, more specifically.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Janey smiled apologetically and Timothy felt betrayed.

“Wait, b-but the wedding’s not until-”

“You can’t come to my wedding in shorts, love,” Janey snorted. “I can relate, really, but if I’m wearing a cute tux then so are you. Especially if you’re going to be our Best Man!”

A great feeling of pride and honor welled up in Timothy’s chest, and it soothed his fears slightly. Janey gave him another smile, though Timothy noticed the nervousness behind her usual sunny grin. He threw another chip at Janey. Her peal of laughter comforted him and gave Tim the strength needed to ask, “So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Athena’s taking you to Atlas tomorrow to be fitted for a suit,”Janey explained, eyes glued to the screen.

“Rhys was kind enough to offer to pay for it.” Janey glanced at him, and seeing the growing panic on Tim’s face, quickly added, “At, get this, no cost! Nothing required from you, zip! Zilch! Nada!”

Tim narrowed his eyes in disbelief, but said nothing. Janey wouldn’t lie, she trusted him as much as he trusted her, but Rhys had no real reason to tell Janey the truth, right? He let it go, deciding to wait until meeting the Atlas CEO face to face again to sort out all these favors. Right now, he just wanted to watch shitty dramas with Janey while they waited for Athena to return home for the day.

○●○●○●○●

As Janey had said, Athena woke him up and dragged him across Sanctuary to the fast-travel machine. The entire time he felt nervous, practically stepping on Athena’s heels with how closely he walked behind her. Athena turned to frown at him, but couldn't bring herself to truly say anything against Tim as she saw how he fidgeted out in the open. Sanctuary was not, Athena knew, not yet someplace that Timothy considered safe. She entered the coordinates to Atlas easily, ignoring how Timothy nervously tapped his foot at her side.

“Timothy?!”

Athena paused, internally groaning as she recognized the voice. What she, and the posh female voice that had spoken, had not anticipated as Timothy panicked gripping Athena by the arm and hitting enter on the console. Athena had no time to say a word, barely had time to brace herself for the sickening electric blue of digitalization as they traveled to Atlas. There was an echo of a man’s angry voice followed by a woman’s laughter ringing in their ears. Once the sickening feeling of the fast travel passed, Timothy meekly turned to Athena and asked, “Was that Aurelia?”

Athena elbowed him in frustration. The yelp of pain it drew made up for the surprise travel. Timothy laughed nervously, an apologetic smile on his face as he rubbed the sore spot on his gut. “Sorry about that.”

“Just don’t do that again,” Athena replied. She dug into her pocket and fished out Timothy’s watch. Timothy gasped and carefully took it as Athena held it out to him. He cradled the watch that held his doubles, rubbing it against his face as if to try and convey his emotions to the doubles within without summoning them.

“I tried to find a justifiable reason to give this back to you,” Athena explained, partially amused by Timothy’s antics. “Leaving you with Rhys and Axton, alone, seemed justifiable enough.”

“Thank you,” Timothy said reverently, strapping the watch to his wrist.

Athena smiled warmly and motioned for him to follow her. All feelings of nervousness washed away, with his doubles at hand, Timothy felt secure in facing Atlas and Sanctuary. He could run away, never to return, if he wanted to, and no one could stop him. Although, the thought of being there for the two women who cared for him before and after the rise and fall of Handsome Jack was what drove Timothy to obediently follow Athena through Old Haven up to the looming building of Atlas.

○●○●○●○●

“So then are you the reason Handsome Jack had such a shitty sense of fashion, or was it a joint collaboration?”

Timothy took a steadying sigh, shooting a glare at the poor tailor who had really tried to bite back his smile. The terrified employee continued taking Tim’s measurements, not daring to look up at Timothy’s furious gaze.

“Jack picked what we wore every morning, which was basically the same thing everyday,” Timothy finally replied.

Axton looked satisfied for a moment before launching into another question.

“So did you have like 20 of the same outfit or…?”

Timothy let out an exasperated wail, finally drawing Rhys’ attention away from the samples of material the tailor had brought to the small fitting studio they were crammed into. Axton snickered as Rhys’ curious gaze took in the trembling tailor and a pathetic looking Timothy. He clucked his tongue before giving Axton a gentle glare.

“Ax, buddy, are you annoying my special guest?”

“Absolutely not!” Axton answered, grinning broadly. Timothy snorted. Axton winked and continued on, “I am a goddamn Saint, Rhys. I would never annoy the shit out of your guests.”

“Knock it off, big guy,” Rhys kindly repremined as he approached them.

He surveyed Timothy up and down, checking the tailor’s measurements. Timothy watched his face scrunch up when he took in the numbers and bristled when he heard Rhys’ soft, “Huh, I thought…”

“That my measurements would be exactly like Jacks?” Tim interrupted. Rhys jumped a little and nervously nodded. Timothy shook his head.

“Didn’t you hear anything I told you last time, dumdum? I spent the last three years trying to stop being Jack.”

“Well you sure talk like him still,” Rhys muttered bitterly.

Axton howled with laughter. Timothy tried to find a retort but couldn’t deny the truth. He pouted and threw a weak, “shut up” at Rhys. The Atlas CEO seemed pleased by that small victory and went to retrieve some of the sample material he had abandoned.

“You know, I’m a vault hunter too,” Rhys casually commented. Timothy rolled his eyes and Rhys wilted a little.

“Ok well, no, but I did open a vault once!”

Timothy glanced at the tailor by his side and snidely said, “So what vault did you open? Because apparently everyone in this godforsaken room is a vault hunter.”

The tailor laughed nervously as Rhys scowled.

“Zer0 says that Rhys and Fiona literally left everyone behind to get into that damn vault,” Axton comments lightheartedly. “Says that-”

“Let’s not talk about the Vault of the Traveler,” Rhys cut off coldly.

He quickly returned to Timothy and held up the materials.

“I know you’re not part of Atlas, but I think maybe-”

“I’m not wearing as many pearls as you are,” Timothy cut him off. “I don’t want to wear yellow either. Just give me a simple black tux or whatever color that Athena and Janey’s clothes are.”

Rhys looks disappointed but nods. He places the materials back down on the table and dismisses the tailor. Timothy stretches and finally relaxes.

“We’re all done here, right?”

“Not quite,” Rhys is quick to admit. Timothy is immediately on edge. He watches Rhys silently compose himself. When he finally turns around to face Timothy, he looks every bit the fearsome CEO that Timothy himself had once been. Hyperion dripped from every bit of Rhys’ demeanor, not that Rhys himself seemed to be aware of that. This whole plot had been fairly clever; A clothes fitting for the wedding disguised as a ploy to corner Timothy where Athena could not save him. Each purposeful step Rhys took tickled some far off memory in Timothy’s brain. Rhys gave him a practiced winning million dollar smile and brightly says, “Let’s talk business, sir.”

All at once, Timothy finally recognizes Rhys.

“It was you!” he cries out in accusation.

All of Rhys’ bravado flushes out into confusion as Timothy leaps down from the literal pedestal he had been standing on and approaches Rhys. The lanky man quickly reaches into his jacket, pulling out a Hyperion JR4000 Stun Baton, but Axton beats him to the punch. Literally. With one quick slug, he drops Timothy down to the floor. Timothy openly glares, but makes no motion to stand up.

“What the hell are you talking about,” Rhys fretfully demands.

“The eridium deal!”

Rhys looks gobsmacked. Carefully he nods.

“Y-yeah. That’s how I got promoted to middle management.”

Timothy remembers now; Remembers his feeble plans and remembers Angel destroying them in an attempt to free herself. Remembers his own failure.

Axton watches the two men carefully before pointedly clearing his throat. Rhys snap out of his confusion, but does not answer Axton’s unasked question. Instead, Rhys straightens himself and slips back into a more professional attitude.

“I know that you don’t care about Pandora,” Rhys begins. “Maybe you want to rave this whole place to the ground, just like Jack did. I get that, I was there once. Pandora isn’t as nice or as rich as other star systems, but it’s home. It’s my home, your home! These people here, yeah they’re not always the brightest. Can’t say that they’re always the safest either, but they’re our people now. My people. I’ve always wanted to run a company, but never for the right reasons. I have Atlas now, a family who loves and needs me, Hyperion’s dead corpse, and a whole planet full of people watching! I want to make them proud, no, I need to make them proud! You give me the, well ironically, the opportunity to do just that.”

Timothy is silent as Rhys finishes with a soft, “Please. Please help me take care of everyone here. Please help me turn Pandora into a place that can be a home, a real home, to everyone. Not just a planet full of murders.”

Timothy stands up and gives Rhys a firm look.

“Pandora is a border planet with nothing but the worst. You can’t ever change that.”

Timothy ignores the despondent look on Rhys’ face and turns toward Axton.

“We’re done here. Take me back to Janey.”

Axton spares Rhys a glance, who gives him a tired dismissive wave, and agrees.

Timothy follows the commando out the door, set in his refusal. The ride down in the elevator is silent and oppressive. Axton tries to come up with something to talk about at multiple points, but falls flat at Timothy’s refusal to speak. The elevator dings and slides open and Axton leads him to into the foyer, out of the building, and toward the fast travel machine.

“So I hear you don’t get out much,” Axton tries again as he’s typing in the coordinates.

“Ya know, Sanctuary isn’t that bad. Better than most Dahl bases I’ve been in.”

“There’s nothing I need there,” Timothy answers.

Axton sighs in defeat and punches them both into the electric blue of the fast travel. What he isn’t expecting, once the migraine inducing bright digital blue has receded, is a beauty wrapped in powder blue furs. “Aurelia.” “Axton,” the Baroness greets coldly before looking straight at Timothy and melting slightly.

"Timothy.” Timothy can’t help grinning at her.

“Hey there, Ice Queen.”

Aurelia huffs in what is the most dignified way that either man has ever seen. With a large amount of effort, Aurelia holds up her hands, palms up. Both men stare at her in confusion. Axton is the first to get it.

“Oh my god.” Timothy watches him try to hug Aurelia, only to be slapped. “It wasn’t for you, darling,” Aurelia sniffs and Timothy snickers. Hugging Aurelia is as awkward as the very idea of doing so would seem to be. It feels wildly out of character for the cold hearted woman Timothy had long ago met on Elpis.

"Alright, I do believe that would suffice,” Aurelia says simply after a couple of seconds and releases Timothy. Timothy jumps back and takes in Aurelia’s cold eyes. There is warmth behind that sheen of ice, something that Timothy has never seen before. Aurelia has changed. Still, it’s nice to see a familiar face.

“So they tricked you into coming here too, huh?” Timothy says and Aurelia shoots a dark glare at Axton.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of effort it took,” Axton grumbles. “Where’s your brother?”

“Alistar?” Timothy questions breathlessly, aware of the Hammerlock siblings’ troublesome relationship. Aurelia purses her lips, annoyed.

“I left him in that horrid excuse for a bar that harlot runs.”

Axton opens his mouth to speak but Aurelia holds a gloved hand up to stop him.

“As much as I adore conversation with you, darling commando, the little girl was looking forward to your return.”

At the mention of Gaige, Axton shuffles. He glances between Timothy and Aurelia. Aurelia turns, having already delivered her message, and takes Timothy’s arm in her own.

“There is much that we have to discuss, dearest Timothy,” Aurelia hums pleasantly. “Especially now that you are free to do so. Speak I mean.”

Timothy nods, having already forgot about Axton’s presence. The commando take that opportunity to slip away and find his younger companion. Aurelia leads Timothy ways, as graceful and methodical as she’s always been. Aurelia is by no means Athena, but Timothy can take care of himself.

Aurelia can take care of the money.


	11. Hammerlocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I try to fix the Hammerlock siblings' relationship & indulge in my favorite OT3.   
> Also, Sir Hammerlock is just Jake English and I will fight anyone who not only understands that reference, but also denies it.

If one were to ask Sir Alistair Hammerlock for his first thoughts upon seeing his “dearest” sister walk into Moxxi’s bar though it’s right side entrance, arm in arm with Handsome Jack, they would receive the poshest “shitfuck” to ever be uttered. If one were to later ask Alistair, when introductions and a couple drinks had cleared away a bumpy first impression, his thoughts on Handsome Jack’s sweet doppelganger? A light blush and a polite cough would proceed the obvious lie mumbled past his bushy mustache, “It is rather impolite to gossip about such things.”

Alistair Hammerlock was smart, not blind. The mad man had been called Handsome Jack for a reason and Timothy was certainly Jack’s double. All handsome looks without any of the handsome crazy. Handsome indeed. Anyone, Alistair included, would gladly roll around in the sheets with that.

Not that he would ever admit it.

No one would.

At least he hadn’t reacted as bad as Moxxi herself.

The barkeep took one look at that familiar mug and had immediately reached for a gun. Only vault hunter reflexes had saved both Aurelia and Timothy from the mag of bullets Moxxi shot their way. Once the clip ran empty and the bullets stopped, Aurelia shot out from behind the door pane, eyes blazing with fury and one hand on her diadem.

“You will stop this idiocy at once!”

Tim peeked through the doorway once it seemed like there would be no round two of bullets. Moxxi’s eyes found his and she blinked slowly. Timothy chanced a small nervous wave.

“H-Hey Mox.”

“Not...Jack?” Moxxi realized slowly, gun clattering to the floor. Aurelia huffed, irritated at being ignored, and yanked Timothy fully into the bar. Tim let the baroness pull him up to the counter to where an unnaturally quiet Moxxi stood. Stunned patrons strained to see who had caused such a reaction in the mellow barkeep, many leaving once they caught a glimpse of Aurelia. A couple left once Timothy was also recognized. Moxxi was a beautiful as she ever was. Timothy found himself feeling shy beneath her hyper focused gaze. She reached a hand out, only to quickly retract it when Timothy flinched. Aurelia let out a loud overly dramatic sigh.

“If you are quite finished?”

“Aurelia!” Hammerlock tried to reprimand. All it gained him was Aurelia releasing Timothy to round onto him, eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Is my darling baby brother demanding attention once more? My, but of course!”

Alistair grimaced as Aurelia ensnared him in her arms. Only when she attempted to blap an ice cold kiss on his cheek did he truly put up a fight.

“Unhand me y-you...you…incongruous ripsnorter!”

“Oh ho ho! That was almost sweet of you, dear brother!”

Knowing how once upon a time Aurelia had once pretended to be anyone other than herself just for the chance to speak to her brother without arguing, Timothy thought about how sweet it was that they had grown close enough to fight so playfully. It least it seemed friendly enough. He glanced back toward Moxxi. The bartender had already shaken off the shock and had slipped back into a carnal grin, once again busing herself pouring and mixing something alcoholic and technicolored.

“All these years,” Moxxi said thoughtfully, “And you just show up here, in my bar, as sweet and coy as ever, Jack.”

Timothy coughed awkwardly, trying to push own name past his dry lips. Damn Moxxi for being so damn cute.

“Oh! Sorry, sugar,” Moxxi corrected, giving Timothy an apologetic smile that made the double melt. “Guess I really shouldn’t call you that bastard’s name even if you do still have some of his face.”

She slid a bright red and yellow glass before him with a salacious wink.

“On the house, handsome.”

“You...you remembered?” Timothy babbled, carefully picking up the drink as if it were something special. “You remembered my favorite drink?”

Moxxi laughed sweetly. “How could I forget the cute boy who liked his alcoholic sweeter than himself?” Timothy knew for a fact that his face had to be as red as it felt hot. He sipped on the sweet Mai Tai, pineapple and Curaçao mixing perfectly on his tongue and soothing some of his nerves. Liquid courage at its finest. Moxxi leans on the counter, giving Timothy quite a lovely view that he has difficulty looking away from. She chuckles at his attempts.

“So what is it?”

A very smart “huh?” manages its way out of a befuddled Timothy. Moxxi’s smile changes from lavish to something kinder, more natural. She leans in closer, noses almost touching, capturing Timothy’s gaze in her own.

“You’re real name, sweethart. Couldn’t give it to me on Elpis, but I’m guessing you can here on lil ol’ Pandora.”

A loud slam on the counter frightens and jerks the two apart. Timothy, hand flying to his watch, searches around while Moxxi swiftly crouches down for the fallen gun. Aurelia’s grin is too sharp, too polite, and too cold. The source of the noise is quickly identified as one poor Alistair Hammerlock, pressed up against the counter with his hands pulled against his back.

“Oops,” is all the baroness says before releasing her brother. Alistair shoots her a dirty loom. So much for getting along, Timothy laments. Moxxi gives the two of them a dirty look.

“Need I remind you two,” she says darkly, “There is no fighting in my bar.”

“Je suis désolé, darling!” Aurelia laughs fakely, more to Alistair than to Moxxi. “I simply got a little too carried away!”

Aurelia struts back to Timothy. In swift, fluid motions she slides her arm into his, plucks the glass from his hands, and downs it in one go.

“Darling Timothy,” Aurelia hums, eyes pointedly flickering over to Moxxi, who has taken it upon herself to check Alistair for any injuries. “I do believe we have some catching up to do, non?”

Moxxi forces herself to seem as cool and calm as always, but everyone can see the malice still in her eyes. Timothy is understandably stunned and frightened.

“Um? I, ah...ugh. Y-yeeeah? I-we, um, y-yeah. Catch up. Greeeat.”

He swallows down his fears and gives his best Handsome Jack smile.

“Yeah, we can do that, Princess.” It’s so obviously an act, dripping with Handsome Jack charm and machismo. Moxxi can’t stop the knee jerk reaction of disgust and cruelty.

“Gross,” snarled past bared teeth and curled painted lips.

She regrets it immediately when Jack melts away into one hurt and embarrassed Timothy. Aurelia's icy stare cuts deeper at her ego, especially knowing that it is well deserved. Moxxi turns away, a neat poker face hiding away the words she might speak, and busies herself wiping down the counter.

“S-sorry,” Timothy meekly apologizes. Aurelia pats his arm and makes herself comfortable against him.

If one were to ask Sir Alistair Hammerlock, he would freely admit his suspicions; Aurelia Hammerlock had an interest in one Timothy Lawrence.

Of what kind of interest was the true question.

○●○●○●○●

At first, Janey is surprised when Athena enters into the garage without Timothy.

“Where’s Tim?” Janey greets, kissing her fiance’s cheek once she is close enough. Athena eyes widen in tense surprise. Suspicion and mild panic filter into both women.

“He’s not home?” Athena askes. Janey shakes her head.

“No. I thought he was coming with you?” she answers truthfully.

“Axton ECHOed me earlier, said he dropped him off at home,” Athena said. Seeing Athena begin to grow restless, Janey kisses her hand.

“Call Axton, maybe Timothy is still with him.”

“Good idea.”

Just as Athena pulls out her ECHOcommunicator, Aurelia walks in with a rather tipsy Timothy. Something about the baroness had always rubbed Janey the wrong way; Her disinterested and bored attitude, the lavish amounts of money tossed around like nothing, her poor attempts to patch up her relationship with her brother. Janey was certain that not even Aurelia wanted to be here in Sanctuary. Still, the woman was here now, and rather attached to a giggly Timothy. Athena is quick to rush to his side the moment Tim stumbles. She all but shoves Aurelia away as Timothy staggers this way and that like the lightweight he is.

“Crikey, Tim! And Axton said he brought you home!” Janey grouses. Athena herself is scowling, already leading Timothy to his room.

Once she is sure that Athena has disappeared, she turns to face the rather bored baroness. As if reading the ex-moondweller’s mind, Aurelia draws herself to her full height.

“Timothy and I were just dong a little catching up is all, dearie. I assure you.”

“That better be all you were doing,” Janey threatens. Aurelia laughs in that haughty way of hers.

Sick of the other woman’s company, Janey turns and leaves. Athena can more than handle Timothy, but Janey learned the hard way that her hot fiance believed that the best hangover medicine was simply to ignore it. Timothy would be miserable with that method.

“You cannot keep him cooped up here forever, you know.”

Janey immediately bristles and turns to glare at Aurelia, hovering just past the threshold of the entrance. She doesn’t turn to look at Janey at all, but knows that she has her attention and continues.

“He’s always been fond of you and Athena, of course, but he’s much too wild now to be caged up again.”

“What do you know?” Janey accused. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, nothing at all, chérie!” Aurelia replied mirthlessly. “Just that he’s a vault hunter at heart. We aren’t exactly too keen on always being so calm. I do believe that your fiance is an example of that.”

Janey seethes as Aurelia finally walks off. Her words have hit too close to home. A part of her isn’t worried about Timothy’s abilities to survive. Aurelia is right, he’s a vault hunter. Janey herself has seen the destruction and mayhem Timothy had caused on Elpis. Along with what Athena’s told her of more of Timothy’s confessed deeds, there was no worry of skill. Just of Timothy’s own self destructive tendencies he’s alluded to. Janey sighs and decided to keep Aurelia’s words close, but not too close.

After all, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for Timothy to try and become more of his own person.

Just that people might not let him do so.

○●○●○●○●

On one hand, it’s entirely cute to see his face scrunched up like that. On the other hand, it’s annoying to hear Rhys constantly muttering to himself. Yvette already knows that it has to do with the plan to convince a certain body double to relinquish Opportunity. She also knows that it was better to let Rhys come to her first. Trying to force the truth out of him too early will only result in a grumpier Rhys.

Still, it’s cute.

Still, it’s annoying.

That annoyingly cute bastard.

Rhys is still shuffling through paperwork at the desk, pushed off to the side against the wall, when Vaughn finally joins them in their bedroom. Yvette has long since settled on their bed, content to comfortably lounge and simply watch Rhys extract his anger onto the papers before him. Rhys doesn’t even glance up at him. That seems to annoy the bandit king at the door. Yvette watches Vaughn methodically strip off his armour and vest. She gives him a curious look, especially when Vaughn does not take off his mask. Carefully and silently, Vaughn tip toes over to Rhys, until he is literally right begin the oblivious CEO, and screeches as loud as banditly possible. Yvette bursts into laughter as Rhys screams and falls out of his chair. Rhys scrambles away, terrified until he recognizes Vaughn’s mask.

“What the hell, bro!” Rhys snaps, hand resting over his racing heart.

He reaches up and swipes a pillow from the bed and tosses it at the still laughing Yvette. The woman sputters as the pillow finds its mark and whacks her straight in the face. Vaughn fully removes his mask, a stern look on his features. Rhys pout but seems to understand. He was too focused on himself and his problems. So much so that he did not even notice the threat, a boyfriend on the prowl.

“I take it things didn’t go so well,” Vaughn says at last, leaving his mask upon the desk. A blockage to the paperwork that would go unfinished for the night.

“Oh, they went awesome,” Rhys sarcastically replies. He kicks off his shoes and joins Yvette on the bed, only to be shortly joined by Vaughn. “Tim and I? Oh we just become best buds.”

“That bad, huh?” Yvette muses. Rhys runs his hands down his face and makes an affirming noise.

Yvette and Vaughn cuddle up to Rhys on each side; Yvette running a hand through his hair while Vaughn massaged his shoulders. Rhys relaxed, wrapping an arm around each of his lovers. They comfort him for a while before Rhys finally tells them how the outfitting with Timothy went. At the mention of the vault, Yvette and Vaughn squeeze him tight.

The Vault of the Traveler was still such a touchy subject.

For everyone.

Fiona and Rhys had disappeared in a flash, lost to the remaining ones who had loved them so. The fruitless search for them had resulted in more than a few tearful nights hidden away in the darkness of Helios’ corpse. A sister and two lovers mourned their lost ones. For about a month anyway. In the same bright light that had zapped them away among the stars, Rhys and Fiona had stumbled back to Pandora - battered, bruised, and traumatized, but dripping with alien tech. Despite all the advancements Atlas was able to make, it never seemed to make up for the cocktail of emotions that Rhys and Fiona had put their family through.

“Did you really think that would be that easy?” Yvette softly question as Rhys finished his story. “He was Handsome Jack, Rhys. No amount of emotional argument is going to make him bend.”

“I know,” Rhys weakly argued, “ I just…”

There was silence as the three tried to figure out the problem that was Timothy Lawrence.

A man who, by all means, was Handsome Jack. A man, by all means, was not Handsome Jack. An enigma that posed the trickiest problem for the trio of lovers.

“This is going to be impossible, isn’t it,” Vaughn said at last, voicing the doubt in their minds. Yvette huffs out an angry breath and rolls on top of her two lovers. Rhys and Vaughn take one look at the fire in her eyes and shiver in excitement. Of course, she would never let them simply give up that easily.

“Hyperion itself couldn’t keep us from succeeding,” she fiercely reminded the two, “We are Atlas’s best! We can figure out what one man with PTSD and identity needs from us for a city full of treasures!”

“Hell yeah!” “Hell yeah!”

Yvette grins sharply and kisses them both before slipping away and off the bed to turn off the lights. Vaughn and Rhys strip down to their more comfortable undergarments and gladly welcome Yvette back into their arms.

“Tomorrow is another day,” she murmurs sweetly, “Tomorrow, we try again. We move forward as we always have and climb higher.”

Tomorrow comes and so does trouble.


	12. Opportunity for an Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here are the boys and an update. Hope you like them. As always, the Loaders are named after Nymphs. I decided to name the Constructors in the same vein as Felicity named herself in BTPS.

When Father had decided to name Atë as Overseer of Opportunity, it was done so as a sign of trust and high honor. A way to let Atë know that he was officially accepted within Father's inner entourage.

Now, Atë was not so sure.

Not with how Felicity was acting.

Father had rushed of with “his boys”, as he liked to call the ragtag group of Loaders he kept close, at daybreak. It was nearing nightfall now, and Felicity had already paced the entire main plaza. Atë had tried multiple times to try and calm her, but the constructor had simply rammed into him each and every single time. There were dents on the lower barrels of his guns, but the fact that she had done so in the first place was much more grievous than the actual harm.

The other constructors followed after Felicity, beeping out the calmest rhythms and patterns they could think of to get the frenzied constructor to relax. Nothing seemed to help. Not until Atë’s internal seniors finally picked up on Auloniad’s signals, the other three loaders’ signals quickly being sensed right after. Without Father, if the lack of organic readings was to be believed.

Felicity was not going to like this.

Of course, she was no longer his problem once Nephele was on the premises.

Which he would be in…

Three...

Two...

One…

“Brothers!” Felicity warbled out once her own systems had picked up on Father's boys.

The whirl of her hoverjets began to hum and she zoomed off faster than Atë thought possible. The other constructors were quick to chase after her, beeping and clicking out binary as they went along. Atë went at his own pace, heavy body slow but purposeful, shooing away curious Loaders that had stopped working to stare after the group of constructors who had raced pass. Upon reaching the entrance, Atë realized two things immediately.

One, Father was not with them. A fact that Felicity had already realized, as if her high pitched whistles and static noise could be anything other than the constructor crying out in fear and worry. She certainly was Father's “darling girl” alright, anxiety and all. The four other constructors hummed and buzzed their ameliorating melodies, not that Felicity heard them, but it certainly made Atë feel better.

Two, the Loaders were battle damaged. Nephele’s barrier fritzed and sparked atop his head, overheated and overworked. If Atë had to guess, they only barely managed to escape because of Nephele’s protection. Hesperides was lugging a large yellow slab that might have once his shield and weapon. There were a few smoking holes in his right shoulder and leg. The worst by far was Melinoe. His broken eye and mangled right leg didn’t hold a candle to the fact that all that his left arm was gone. In its place, or lack thereof, was a smoking empty port and sparkling wires.

The obvious answer?

Father’s paranoid fears had been justified.

“There’s been as assault on the Angel’s Grave,” Auloniad greeted, marching right up to Atë.

Scorch marks and dents littered his body, Atë noticed, but was otherwise fine. The Badass Loader beeped and relayed the events that occured at the Bunker with a single data transfer. Atë quickly but carefully reviewed the files of information.

Not an assault.

A kidnapping.

Another point for Father’s paranoia.

If this was going to become a trend now, Atë was certainly going to pay attention to what Father cried about during his next panic attack.

By now they are drawing a crowd. Other Loaders are stopping their work and slowly approaching, drawn by Felicity’s anxious warbling and the other constructors’ humming. Only the fear of Atë keeps them from coming too close. Atë calculates his options and decides in .3 seconds.

“Felicity, stop crying,” Atë commands. Melinoe shutters dangerously and Atë almost believes that he is collapsing until the Loader rushes at him.

“How dare you-!”

Auloniad catches Melinoe between the barrels of his own guns and cuts off his screeching with a sharp, “Calm, brother. Atë is right. Tears won’t help us. We must decide what to do and how to get Father back.”

Melinoe does then collapse. Atë almost feels something in his core processors, almost offers to take Melinoe so that the Badass does not strain his own injuries. He stamps it down and turns around, heading toward central command. Behind him, Felicity’s staticy beeps and whistles slowly lower in pitch until all that is left of her silent tears is her flashing red eye. It’s enough for Atë. Heavy steps and the soft whirling of hoverjets tells Atë that the survivors are following.

“Zadkiel is dead,” Hesperides speaks up as they make their way through Opportunity. Nephele lets out a sad beep, mourning the Angelic Guard Loader that had been quite a good friend. Atë feels nothing toward the loss, but is compelled to offer condolences. It seems to be what is wanted, because Nephele thanks him in a grateful tone.

Stunned Loaders abandon their jobs to follow the parade of damaged Loaders and constructors. Atë almost demands that they return to their designated jobs, already has a sharp chirp readied to play on his voicebox, but abandons that idea. They to have noticed the absence of Father. Atëdecides they deserve to stew in ignorance of the situation for abandoning their posts. Surely there was no better punishment?

They first stop at the medical building that Nephele has turned into his own private hospital. The ION Loader’s own private quarters lacked the correct and essential supplies to fix them all. That and Lady Hope refused to construct in such a small and enclosed area. Atë ushers Felicity and the other Constructors back out the door once a group of ION Loaders take the more battle damaged Loaders of to be repaired. Atë is only 32% surprised to see Auloniad quickly follow them out, much to the protests of Nephele’s disciples. Still, Atë was no complaints and allows him to continue on with them.

They finally arrive at central command and Atë ushers them all in. He cocks his weapons in warning when other Loaders attempt to also shove in after Felicity and her Ladies. They scatter back but remain clustered before the entrance. Atë slams the doors shut and ensures that central command enters lockdown before following the others up the many stairs up to one of Father's conference halls. It felt appropriate for such a meeting. Felicity hovers straight toward the main conference room and everyone simply follows her. With its wide width and high walls, it has more than enough room for each Loader and Constructor around the gleaming steel table that occupies it. Atë takes the place at the head of the long table, his back to the wall of gleaming glass where the setting sun of Pandora bathes the golden Hyperion yellow room a deep orange. Such positions sit well with the Badass Loader, making him much more menacing as shadows cast themselves upon him until all that there is is the shining reflection of his guns and the blood red of his optical recover. Atë waits as each Constructor and Auloniad settle down before protecting out the information given to him by Auloniad. Once the processing of all the information had occurred, he finally addresses the elephant in the room by asking the obvious question.

“What do we do now?”

“We go after Father of course!” Auloniad is quick to inject. Atë pointedly sighs.

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“Father could be anywhere!” Lady Grace agreed. “How will we find him?”

“There must be some way to track him!” Lady Faith offered, backed up by agreeing trills from Auloniad and Lady Joy.

“His watch,” Felicity said. “If he activates his watch we can latch on to his-”

“There is no guarantee that he is even alive at this point,” Lady Grace interrupted, “Let alone able to use that contraption of his.”

“It’s all we have,” Auloniad reminded. “Unless you have any other ideas?”

No one offers alternatives and Atë casts his final decision.

“We focus on the watch, wait for Father’s signal. We will send a rescue party once we find him. Lady Joy, Lady Grace, I know we can count on you two to provide the best Loaders for such a job once the time comes.”

Lady Joy and Lady Grace beep their agreements.

“For now, we get Hesperides, Nephele, and Melinoe back in fighting shape and send Zadkiel’s replacement to Angel’s Grave, along with any other backup needed. Lady Faith, we leave those Angelic Guards to you.”

Lady Faith beeps cheerfully. Atë feels 98% satisfied with his decision.

“Ladies of the Court, dismissed,”Atë hums, “Auloniad, you really should get to Nephele’s clinic.”

Auloniad stands, bending in silent agreement, and makes to leave just as the other constructors are doing so. Felicity beeps and everyone’s attention is on her.

“We depend on you, Atë,” Felicity says seriously, “Bring him home.”

Atë suddenly feels 73% proud of his plan as he watches Felicity whirl her jets on and leave with the rest of the company. Perhaps Overseer of Opportunity was an honor that Father had hoped would encourage his boys to accept Atë, an honor that none of Father’s entourage believed he deserved. Perhaps they would never accept Atë, a thought that was only 32% effective against the Super Badass Loader.

“I will bring Father back.”

○●○●○●○●

Nothing of consequence changed following Father’s kidnapping.

Work and construction in and around Opportunity continued on. Felicity and her Ladies still worked on their attempts to construct anything other than Loaders while going about their own duties. Nephele’s clinic still accepted any and all injuries. Atë still ran Opportunity on a tight schedule. There was more activity going on in one of Opportunity’s communications building. Other than that, nothing much. It was driving Auloniad crazy. Without Father, there was no one to shadow and protect and thus nothing to do.

The Badass couldn’t even talk to Melinoe to elevate the boredom, considering that the EXP Loader was still undergoing careful reparations. The only consolation was that his dearest, Hesperides, was also caught up in such a situation as him. Without Father around, there was no need for food as there was no other living creature in Opportunity to consume it. Atë had ordered a cease of production on food for organic matter and had released the gardening Loaders from their duties. Of course, Hesperides had his own private garden in the form of the many potted plants around their shared home.

It was a relieved break at first, only broken by the constant worry for Father’s well being. Having so much time on Pandora had been something that Auloniad had once been well acquainted with. Father’s sudden presence in his life had banished that old knowledge. Auloniad missed Father.

“You could always lend a hand at the communications hub,” Hesperides always reminded whenever Auloniad moped about their shared home. “They could always use some help in trying to pinpoint Father’s bio-signals.”

“Because Father had not yet finished their reprogramming,” Auloniad argued. “Nothing but GUN and FIX Loaders there with little to no knowledge. Even Myrtlos is lost on how to find Father!”

Myrtlos, a prototype Communications/COMM Loader, was the best bet that they had at finding father. Atë was so sure of the prototype’s success. Auloniad was not. Hesperides made a “tut-tut"-ing sound and lightly bonked Auloniad on his top chassis.

“He is new and excited and Father’s new son. Give him time.”

Still the sun rose and lowered in Pandora’s sky and there was no sign of Father.

A week later found Nephele quietly intruding in their shared home, followed by a boisterous Melinoe, finally back and up on his feet. Auloniad was grateful that both his best friends were finally repaired to maximum opacity. Their family was healthy again. Their mechanical one anyway. Father was the only one out of commission, so to speak. Felicity was exceptionally happy when the four of them paid her visit. While she had been given information by Auloniad, the same that Atë had been given, three other the give their own accounts to her.

“Have you given this information to Atë?” she asks once she had finished processing and archiving the new data given.

“No, Mother.” “Nope.” “Negative.”

Felicity trills happily.

“Good.”

On one hand, Auloniad can understand her distrust of Atë. He was bigger, stronger, and held absolute power while Father was gone. The Super Badass was a fairly new addition to their family, hadn't dealt with the failure of protecting the Angel nor had he experienced Father’s agony and tears; Hadn’t had to force Father back to life when grief took him to close to the end. Atë would never understand why those from the Bunker were so close.

On the other hand, Auloniad wanted to trust Atë add much as he trusted the others. Father chose Atë because of what he was, a Super Badass with more firepower to protect their family. Atë seemed eager to prove himself to Father and a little desperate to be accepted. There had to be a point where they no longer had to second guess Atë’s loyalty. Handsome Father was gone, there was no one else to control Atë but Father, who had given them their own freedoms.

Nuts and bolts and stars above, Auloniad was confused by such politics. Melinoe, however, didn't seem to care.

“You think too much brother,” Melinoe said without much thought.

The two had finally cracked and decided to offer their help to the communications hub. Hesperides was fed up with having Auloniad and Melinoe both loading around at home and Nephele had tossed them both our the moment they appeared on his clinic's doorstep. After such a small group for so long, helping with manual work shoulder to shoulder with other Loaders felt weird, and so here they were. Myrtlos had been bedside himself with relief and nerves when they had shown up.

“Do you think Father will ever make us a brother without anxiety?” Melinoe had teased, only to get a punch straight to his newly repaired optical receiver. Auloniad had kept his smart reply to himself, although just barely. Melinoe had convinced Auloniad to go back to the hub over and over again after that.

Though, Myrtlos never punched him again.

“I really think that Righteous Mother does not trust Atë,” Auloniad insisted, back in the present. “It's been one week, six days, four hours, thirty two minutes, and six seconds and counting since we have returned and there is no sign of Father. Righteous Mother is still bothering Atë about his decision.”

“Mother is worried,” Melinoe reminded. “She had that right to pressure him.”

“Yes, but-"

“Oh! Butts…yup...”

“Brother?”

“It froze.”

“Whack it.”

A crash and a shower of spatula and smaller machinery parts.

“Loni, brother?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not frozen anymore.”

“I can see that Meli...”

Melinoe slyly shoves the busted computer off the desk and onto the floor, taking care to also drop the impossibly small bits. Auloniad sighs, knowing exactly what the other Loader is doing. He regrets advising a good whack to unfreeze the computer.

“You know, you could always send him flowers instead. Hesperides most likely already knows his favorite kind.”

“No, no,” Melinoe denies gleefully, “This is good.”

Once the entire computer, bits and all, had found a new home in the plush carpet of the floor, Melinoe raises his new hand up high. Within moments, Myrtlos is approaching them. Auloniad hopes the prototype Loader does punch Melinoe again.

“Auloniad, Melinoe. I have… what the f@*#k have you done?!”

Myrtlos greeting leaves much to be desired, but Auloniad can't deny him the fury he feels.

“My computer froze,” Melinoe answers brightly, all to proud.

Myrtlos stalls and reboots as Melinoe laughs.

There is pride in Auloniad’s mainframe when he sees Myrtlos indeed punch Melinoe again. The prototype straightens himself out and addresses Auloniad.

“I still haven’t found Father, but I did find something to help us.”

“What is it?” Auloniad asks curiously. Melinoe transmitters him the data found and the Badass is happily surprised.

“Helios.”


	13. Helios Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I forgot to explain that Felicity is understandable here because she doesn't use the voice of Hyperion to communicate with the Loaders of Opportunity, plus the Loaders are fluent in morse code.  
> Also someone P L E A S E explain to me why Pickle is on Pandora??

Auloniad already knows that there is no way that Atë will agree to this plan. Stars above, Auloniad himself had some reservations about Melinoe’s plan. There was no guarantee that Helios could offer them any way to actually help in the search for Father.Still, there had been no way to stop Melinoe from picking up Myrtlos and rushing to Felicity with him and his findings. Felicity had only gleefully responded with, “Find it and we find Father."

There was no logical way that made sense to Auloniad. How would Helios find Father? Melinoe had accepted the request without question, but Auloniad had needed some needling to agree to it. The only thing that he could not agree to was keeping this discovery from Atë. Which landed him in the position that he was in now. Standing outside of Atë’s office while Melinoe had rushed off already with a platoon of freshly made Loaders. Auloniad sometimes wondered if reckless behavior was in the coding of every EXP Loader or just in Melinoe’s. After taking almost 2.8 minutes to prepare himself to face the Badass, Auloniad entered Atë’s office. The Badass greeted him with a simple beep but remained focused on the data displayed across the holoscreen before him. A map, Auloniad realized quickly, of the known galaxy.

“You do not believe him to be on Pandora?” Auloniad blurted out as a greeting. Atë’s optical receiver flashed brightly.

“Helios is gone, but Hyperion is not,” Atë simply answered. “There is no reason not to believe they will come. Perhaps even find Father.”

“Are you not lucky to receive this information,” Auloniad laughed, making Atë pop to attention. “Myrtlos has found Helios.”

“We are not looking for Helios,” Atë quickly reminded, “Our goal is to find Father.”

“Mother Felicity believes that we will find Father with the aid of Helios,” Auloniad finally admits. “Melinoe has already-”

Atë doesn’t even wait to hear the rest, pushing past Auloniad and already sprinting off. Auloniad follows after, suddenly unsure. They run back to Felicity’s private quarters, but Atë does not wait for permission to intrude the way that Auloniad does. Atë shoots the door down and confronts the Constructor directly.

“How dare you?” Atë screeches, “You have done nothing but undermine me since-”

“I need Helios for more than just Father,” Felicity grouses. “There is more at stake here, and you would not understand.”

“I will not understand unless you tell me, Mother,” Atë spits out venomously. At that, Felicity seems to take offence.

“I did not construct you, I am not your Mother.”

“There is-”

“There is nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Felicity continues, “Melinoe, Myrtlos, and their team will find Helios and therefore find Father.”

“We are not finished here Felicity,” Atë threatens furiously. “I do not know what you plan, but there is no doubt in my mainframe left. You are suspicious and a risk to the benefit of Opportunity.”

“The real suspicion is you,” Felicity counters. “I can not trust you if I do not know who digistructed you. I can not trust what your codework is like. Father should never have trusted you without looking at such a thing, and now he is gone.”

Auloniad watches Atë stretch to his full height and decides that is a clear enough threat to Felicity. He runs around Atë, positioning himself between Felicity and Atë, and stands up as ramrod straight as possible. Atë and Auloniad stare, silently calculating each other, before Atë finally backs down.

“You may not know my codework,” Atë says grimly, “but there is no reason to question my loyalty. The Rampant One did her job.”

With that, Atë takes his leave. Auloniad relaxes slightly and turns to address Felicity. The Constructor is staring after Atë, processing his words.

“Righteous Mother?” Felicity turns her attention to Auloniad. “Shall I go after Melinoe?”

“No,” Felicity answers. “I need you to go back to...Angel’s Grave. I need something that I have left there.”

“What is it Mother?” “The Satellite.”

“Of course, Mother,” Auloniad says, “I will bring it.”

Felicity watches Auloniad leave. A cold and lonely feeling reaches into her core and squeezes. It causes Felicity to panic and she sorts through her sourcework until she finds the particular strand of code causing such an emotion. D4h1/L0v3lySk1pp3r.EXE struggles as Felicity places it back into the small bundle of code it was hidden amid.

“Soon,” she promises the whimsical strand, “You’ll get to Her source again, and maybe Father can be happy.”

○●○●○●○●

There were many differences between Pandora and Elpis, though only a select few had the rare knowledge of that.

A certain Davis Pickle was one of those select few.

One of those differences was just how much easier it was to scavenge on Pandora! Bandits, marauders, vault hunters, and big corporations alike were all a little too focused on the big artifacts and big prizes that Pandora had to offer. No one cares if a few scraps of metal go missing when bigger treasure is at stake. Scraps suited Pickles just fine. He had survived on scraps when on Elips, actively fighting with other Scavs on Elpis for such small prizes. Here on Pandora? There was more scraps than Pickles knew what to do with. In times like those, with inventory and arms filled in with workable material, the teen was grateful for Miss Ellie.

The larger than life woman with the perkiest attitude ever had been more than happy to welcome the scavenger into her home. Especially when he proved to be the most attentive apprentice she had ever encountered. Sanctuary, a so-called “vault hunter’s central” and base for the Crimson Raiders was no place for someone with his particular talents. Janey Springs had been kind enough to take him in when he had first landed, but there had only been so scrap to be salvaged in Sanctuary and only so much help that Pickle could provide to Springs. Miss Moxxi had been been the one to suggest her daughter’s garage out in the Dust, and the whole arrangement worked out well.

Life was comfortable with Miss Ellie. She reminded Pickle so much of Eliza, it helped with the homesickness he often got. More often than not Pickle would jump, expecting the same low gravity of his birthplace to gently carry him, only to fall flat on his face. Miss Ellie at least made the effort to hide her laughter, most others didn’t. Eliza certainly hadn’t when he had told her over a long distance ECHOcommunicator that Miss Ellie had helped him create. Sometimes, Pickle wished that Eliza was more Miss Ellie. The large woman would teach him the many ways that the junkpiles that often came into their hands could be formed into other useful creations. Pickle had been especially excited when she had promised to teach him auto mechanics as well. Still, junk dealing was their main business and it was profitable. The Dust was always filled with much to scavenge, especially after Atlas’s Bandit King and his “Children of Helios" passed through.

Miss Ellie had denied Atlas when they had sent their Bandit King her way, insisted on being too busy helping Sanctuary and their many vault hunters navigate their way around the Dust to aid Atlas’s little pet bandit group. Pickle had been young and dumb enough, to offer support to the Children of Helios who would pass their garage on their way to the new wreckage. Scavenging technology from Helios was no different than scavenging tech from the Drakenburg and the Bandit King was more than kind enough to let him take what he wanted that was of no interest to them.

The Atlas CEO couldn’t have known, Pickle was sure. The two old Hyperion CEOs he had met had been dicks.

This Bandit King?

Pickle liked him very much, and not just because the teen was almost his height.

Yes, there were many differences between Eplis and Pandora.

One thing that wasn’t different?

Getting shot at while trying to scavenge tech.

There were usual bandits that often tried to claim the wreckage of Helios, but the old space station had long been secured but the CoH. Not to mention the guards that protected the entrance while others plundered Helios of its old tech were more than accurate with their shots when needed be. Although, there was nothing to prepare the CoH bandits for the horde of Loader Bots had appeared on the horizon.

Definitely Hyperion but definitely not friendly.

The first shouts of warnings pulled the first spoken word that Pickle had ever heard the Bandit King speak.

“Shit.”

He grabbed Pickle by the scruff of his old and dirty spacesuit and hauled him deeper into the gut of Helios.

“Get in! Bring it down!” “Bring down the entrance!” “Blow it up!” “Loaders almost here!”

Pickle kept looking over his shoulder, stumbling slightly as he struggled to keep up with the Bandit King. Other Children of Helios had immediately followed after them, looks of worthy on those who had not opted to cover their faces. The booming sound of explosions rocked the wreckage just as the Bandit King released Pickle, and the teen fell right on his face. The Bandit King said nothing, but did help him back to his feet. So polite for a Bandit. The familiar shots of gunfire began, and metal screeched in protest. If he had to wager a guess, the Loaders were trying to mow down the scrap heap the entrance way had become.

“Keep moving,” came the order and so the gang of bandits keep walking deeper along the remains of what had once been a hallway. Pickle reached up and clicked the lights on his helmet on, a gesture that many other bandits mimicked as they retrieved flashlights from pouches and pockets alike. Pickle pulled out a spare light from one of his back pouches and handed it to the Bandit King, who seemed to be without one. He took it silently, but Pickle was sure he was thankful. After a few minutes of walking and climbing over debris, a woman ran up to the Bandit King, worry in her uncovered eyes.

“Sir, that entrance was our only way in or out.”

“I’m aware, Veronica, thank you,” was the Bandit King’s cool response.

“Sir, what about those Loaders?” a man this time asked, face covered but unable to mask the fear in his voice. The Bandit King remained unfazed.

“Let's not worry about Hyperion just yet,” the Bandit King assured, “Rhys would have known if they were coming.”

“I hope,” was added quietly under his breath, though Pickle was the only one close enough to catch that private doubt.  There are murmurs of agreement and a few of relief. It makes Pickles wonder who this ‘Rhys’ is and why his name is enough to make the Children of Helios feel so much better.

“What’s the plan then sir?” askes a third vice. “We’re getting closer to parts of Helios that we still haven’t mapped out.”

At this, the Bandit King stopped and turned. Others bumped into each other from stopping just as suddenly as their leader had, but grew attentive as the Bandit King addressed the Children of Helios before him.

“We secure a camp for ourselves deeper into Helios, away from the Loaders. Once we’ve got a solid defense, we’ll send word to Atlas about our predicament. We’ll be fine.”

The confidence and surety in the Bandit King encouraged cheers from his followers, but Pickle was skeptic. Why not call Atlas now? Why wait for so long. The Children of Helios began to move forward again, following their leader, but Pickle hung back.

Digging around his pockets and clipped on hanging bags, he fished out both an ECHOcom and a pistol that Ellie had gifted him when he had first began to guide the Children of Helios through the Dust. The battered old ECHO flickered but remained lit as Pickle fiddled with its frequencies to one he used the most often.

“Miss Ellie? ‘Ello?” Static spilled from its speakers. Pickle continued to fiddle with it, going as far as to give it a good old whacking. When that failed, he threw it against the wall, hoping that that would work. It didn’t. He picked it up again, slid down the wall onto his rump, and tried different frequencies. All of his attempts ended the same.

“Miss Moxxi! Are yer there?”

Static.

“Can you ‘ear me? Springs?”

Noisy static.

“Anyone there a’toll? Hullo?!”

Nothing.

“They aren’t going to answer, kid.”

Pickle jumped and stood up quickly. As an afterthought, he scooped the forgotten pistol up from where it had sat next to him on the floor. By that time, he had already recognized the Bandit King, so the pistol feel like a moot point. The Bandit King, seemingly noticing the pistol, tilted his head.

“Miss Ellie gave it ta me,” Pickle explained sheepishly. “For emergencies an’ all that.”

He glanced down at the ECHO in his hand and then back up to the Bandit King.

“Why can’t-”

“I don’t know, but we are already aware of that,” the Bandit King cut him of. Pickle pursed his lips.

“Then ‘ow ‘re you-?”

“Helios had a communications center that let it commune with the rest of the galaxy,”’ the Bandit King, once again cutting him off, explained. “We find it and we can reach out not only to other planets and bases, but to all of Pandora here. Including Atlas.”

It made sense, Pickle thought to himself. Helios was just an outpost here on the outer rims, it had to have a way to communicate with the rest of the stars.

“Let’s go kid. I promised a certain mechanic that I would keep you safe, and I intend to keep that promise.”

The teen nodded and followed the Bandit King when he motioned. There was a way out of the wreckage, it would just take time. Hopefully Miss Ellie wouldn’t get too lonely without Pickle there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to copy Pickle's speech pattern but honestly? I know that the attempt was shitty.


	14. Punch Drunk

There was this one time that Timothy recalls being shot in the head while on a mission back on Elpis. It had been simple enough job, find the thing Jack wanted and bring it back to him. There was no way that there could be any problems! Except that there was.

With an overworked, overheated, and refreshing watch on his wrist, Timothy’s shield gave out under a barrage of bullets from scavs defending what it was Jack had wanted. Timothy dived for cover behind a low rock but it wasn’t enough to cover his exposed self. The crack and pop of gunfire was his only waning before fire surged through Timothy’s body. One in his shoulder, ripping skin and muscle apart from bone as it dug its way in as deep as it possibly could. Another going completely through his hip, leaving a bloody sizable hole. The last one embedded itself into the muscle of his thigh. Surely all of Elpis could hear his screams of pain was the last though he had before that fire touched the crown of his head in a cloud of shrapnel and blades. In an instant, pain and hellfire was all of Timothy’s world.

The barest prick of cold steel only registered after the thick gel of an Anshin medipen entered his bloodstream. Sharp nails dug into the quickly healing bullet holes to pluck out cold shells.

“Nobody bleeds out till I say so!” Nisha’s voice snarls in Timothy’s ear. The cool relief of the hypo was almost enough to make Timothy want to kiss her.

When the last of the gel was emptied into Timothy, Nisha gripped his arm too tightly and pulled him to cover behind a larger rock formation to allow both their shields to regenerate. Together, they finished the mission and made their way back to Concordia. Nurse Nina had given Timothy a clean bill of health, remarking only on how lucky he was that his OZ kit had softened the blow from the bullet. Of course, Jack had been angry that Timothy had lost such an expensive Hyperion OZ kit, nevermind that it had actually saved his double’s life.

It was an oddly specific memory to encounter upon waking up, but it was at the forefront of Timothy’s mind as the awful throes of a hangover made him ache all over. That wasn’t fair, he didn't even drink that much, and Moxxi tended to water down her drinks no matter how much she denied it. Timothy felt awful, like being shot in the head, but no Anshin came to relieve him from the pain.

“Too much, huh Boss?”

Timothy groaned and tried to bury his face deeper into the cool pillow beneath him.

“Geez Boss, way to be a lightweight.”

Timothy gave his doubles a halfhearted bird.

Wait.

Timothy raised his head, squinting against the too bright sunlight to stare into the smirking faces of his doubles.

“How…?”

"Athena activated us,” Selene answers brightly. Timothy wracks his brain for that particular memory, but comes up short.

“How did she…?”

“Your drunk ass told her,” Eos helpfully reminds. “Years of keeping that particular trick hidden and you finally spill all because you had one too many.”

Timothy lets his head fall back onto his pillow and groans. He’s not in the right frame of mind right now. The bed dips slightly in two places, and Timothy is sure that the two doubles have sat down. A pair of cold hands run through Timothy’s hair while another equally cold pair of rubs his back. It’s nice and comforting and Timothy almost falls asleep again.

“We thought you were dead, Boss,” Selene offers softly. The admission alone is enough to keep Timothy from drifting off, but not enough to make him move away from his pillow.

This is tentative territory that Timothy tries to avoid. His death and what that would entitle for his doubles. It will come eventually, but Timothy doesn’t know what will become of Selene and Eos. Prior to Jack’s death, Timothy had always believed that he would hand them down to Angel or even to Angel’s children. Now he knows what a foolish dream that was, but it doesn’t answer the question of his doubles’ fate.

“Imagine our surprise when we were finally set free,” Eos continues where Selene left off. “Last we saw, we were in battle, the next? In this dinky little room with our guns pointed straight at Athena and Janey.”

“You pricks,” Timothy says without any real heat and the two doubles laughed.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what Athena said,” Selene snicked.

“So then Athena knows how to summon you two,” Timothy sighs, less of a question and more a statement. Selene and Eos make affirmative noises.

That was...decidedly not ok.

Timothy liked being one of the few who knew how to summon his digiclones. It made Tim feel special, and having someone as capable as Athena being able to summon Eos and Selene made Tim feel obsolete. Not that Timothy didn’t trust Athena, but really she was employed by that bitch of a CEO! She had betrayed him once, what was to stop her from doing the same again?

“You’re looking murderous there, Boss.”

Timothy would really rather not have to deal with anything more. He wanted nothing more than to return to Opportunity, where he didn’t have to deal with the repercussions of his actions. At least there, Timothy had an ample amount of distractions to keep him from thinking about the rest of the known galaxies or even his own guilt. At least there, Timothy could keep the constructs away from any other prying eyes.

“Boss?”

Both hands retreated from Timothy’s hair, leaving his skin feeling too warm without the constant chill of both digistructs’ hands. For a moment, Timothy believed that they might have already run out of power, shifting around to reach down toward his wrist. The two digistructs lifted themselves from the bed, standing back to back together in a way that Timothy long since come to recognize as a way that Jack used to display discomfort. It’s enough to make Timothy sit up, wincing when he went too fast and caused sparks of pain to crawl down his neck and shoulders.

Drinking sucked.

Neither digistruct spoke or even acknowledged Timothy’s attention, choosing instead to stare at Timothy in calm silence. Timothy found himself hating it. That look of contemplation didn’t suit Jack’s face. How could Timothy forget? Even when they developed their own personality cores, even when they showed themselves to be radically different from Jack, they held the same face that Timothy had tried to alter in the mirror.

A face that, with a little bit of makeup and hair care, could once again stare at Timothy back in the mirror. Timothy didn’t want to see that face again.

“We’re here if you want to talk about it,” Selene offered softly, the first to break the tense silence. Eos made a noise of agreement. “We can offer more that you think Boss.”

Timothy didn’t have much time to react. A telltale beep sounded from his watch and the two digiclones melted into nothingness with a poof of shattered blue and red sparks. Without looking, Timothy unclasped the wrist from his wrist and stuffed it under his pillow.

“Now you’re on time out,” he muttered lamely, still trying to process everything.

There were probably responsibilities that require his attention, but Timothy would rather do anything other than leave his room. Escaping whatever consequences his past drunk self left for his present sober self sounded like an absolutely wonderful idea. Besides, solving what his digiclones meant was much more important than socializing. In any case, it was certainly much more important than remembering the godawful CEO that had caused Timothy to drink in the first place.

When his watch beeps in approval, Timothy's fingers fly over his watch and summon his two boys back. Selene and Eos give him curious matching looks and Timothy pats the bed on either side of him.

"Let's talk, kiddos."

○●○●○●○●

After the fifth alarm, Yvette realizes that there is probably an important reason for having set five alarms. Sheepishly, she sets down the paperwork in her hands and reaches over to check her ECHO. A memo pops up, reminding her of the agreed upon quitting time that she and her two boyfriends had agreed upon.

Atlas was not Hyperion.

There was no reason to spend days upon days defying sleep to climb up in the company when the three of them were as high as they could go. Old habits were hard to break, which had lead to this little arrangement between the three of them. Well, two of them, if Yvette was being honest.

Vaughn had no problem in leaving work for the next day. Rhys and Yvette, however, still needed convincing to leave behind their workloads. Yvette stands from her desk, bones cracking and popping as she stretched. She tidies up her works; one pile for those finished, another for those still needing reading and approving, and another for those that were denied. The thought of how long she’s been at work runs through her mind. Too long, she finds after checking the time, much longer than Vaughn would usually approve of. Rhys, she figures, is probably still holed up in his own office. It's only two floors up from her own stately office, which is great because she is not going to wait an ungodly amount of time for the damn elevator.

The halls are quiet and devoid of the usual workers, the clicking of her heels echoing off aged white walls. Yvette really wishes there was a way to refurbish the old company building back to its original glory.

In its prime, Atlas was dripping with elegance, money, and pearls. What their new Atlas had so far was dust, Hyperion’s scavenged tech, and useless dulled pearls with no real worth here on Pandora. Everyday that passed, Yvette was thankful for Cassius and the rest of the bioengineers for starting up Atlas’ old food production. So far, it was their only source of income. It was better to be over prepared for their interplanetary reentrance than to be undercut again by some other bigger company. It didn’t help that for now, Atlas was stuck on Pandora alone with no one else sell to.

Which left Yvette and Rhys with so much paperwork that the two of them had joked about being interns again. Vaughn, the smart bastard, had denied the position of Head of Accounting Department by simply picking up his bandit mask and grinning.

“Altas needs a private military force again,” he reminded. Later, when Rhys had brought him both Athena and Axton as the co-generals of the new Crimson Lance, Vaughn has simply said, “Sure, but the Children of Helios are not the Crimson Lance.”

Thus began the raids on Helios via the use of the Children. Vaughn was able to satisfy his wanderlust and adrenaline highs while Rhys and Yvette lived out their childish dreams of running a company.

Of course, as children they had never realized they would have to deal with so much endless work; Approve this project, deny that initiative, check those designs, rework these interests. Nothing but endless paperwork, meaningless redlines, and too many toes that should not be stepped on.

Yvette had to wonder how the hell Hyperion was ever functional with Handsome Jack in charge, because there was no way in Hell that bastard even so much as looked at the amount of paperwork that kept the company afloat. No wonder Upper Management had a much easier time killing each other off.

If Yvette wasn’t so in love with her two boys, she’d absolutely try to kill them.

Again.

Ouch.

Finally coming up upon the floor of Rhys’ office, Yvette didn’t even bother knocking. She opened the doors, marveling in the aged grandeur of the large office. It wasn’t the modern monstrosity that was Handsome Jack’s old office. No, this one screamed Atlas luxury from every pearled surface possible.

Large ceiling high windows gleamed with a translucent pink tinge, deep velvet crimson curtains tied back neatly to allow for one to peer down across both the city and Pandoran desert for miles. Plush white carpeting softened Yvette’s heeled footfalls as she approached the lovely man hunched over a literal mountain of paperwork at an ornate wooden desk in the middle of it all. Rhys didn’t even look up from where he was painting page after age in pretty pink ink.

“Leave it on the right side of the desk,” Rhys mumbles tiredly.

Yvette carefully stops before his desk, crossing her arms and smiling just as tiredly as Rhys looks. She picks up a page of paper that seems to be finished considering the amount of pink scribbles all over it. Pink scribbles is being very cordial. Yvette is used to reading many different types of bad writing, it was a skill she had to unfortunately learn when she first began to work in requisitions, Even more than that, Yvette is used to reading Rhys’ loopy handwriting, a sad side effect that Rhys liked to blame on Eden 6’s public education system. What Yvette is looking at is not any type of legible writing that she can recognize. She sets it down with a sigh.

“Rhys, you need to stop,” she finally says in ways of greeting. Rhys’ head pops upward and Yvette can see the bags under his tired eyes.

“Oh, Yvette,” Rhys greets, a yawn tacking itself on at the end of his greeting. “What brings you here?”

“Vaughn’s alarm,” Yvette reminds helpfully. Rhys blinks owlishly, mismatched eyes filled with sluggish confusion.

Yvette’s smile grows softer as she steps around the desk. Rhys lets her take his left hand in hers, watching in ernest curiosity as Yvette activates the ECHOpad on his palm and flips through his files and apps. He takes advantage of Yvette being so fixated on the holoscreen and carefully guides her closer until their foreheads touch. Yvette glances at him over her glasses and Rhys gives her a sweet smile.

A careful tension rises between them as they both think about the stupidly botched double agent ploy and almost betrayal on Helios that didn’t feel quite that long ago. Rhys carefully shifts and reaches over to take one of Yvette’s hands with his right one. She hesitates when Rhys gently pulls and Rhys immediately begins to release her.

“S-sorry, I…”

Yvette doesn't let him finish. The tired and faintly hurt look on Rhys’ face makes her cut him off with a squeeze. Rhys blinks in surprise before smiling in understanding and squeezing her hand back. Yvette lets him pull her closer and closer until she ends up in his lap. It’s a familiar spot and speaks volumes of the forgiveness that Rhys holds toward Yvette. She’s definitely not getting teary eyed over such a gesture.

Shut up.

Rhys holds his cybernetic hand up for her to scroll through again. The jerk lets her struggle to find his alarm app, relaxing on his old and worn velvet chair with his other hand resting lightly on her hip. Yvette finally finds it only because it pops down with a shrill whistle. Rhys’ arm vibrates in harmony with the alarm.

“How the hell do you not feel that?” Yvette asks incredulously as Rhys tries to sit up in interest.

He flicks it off with a twitch of his fingers and takes control of his arm. Yvette leans back into him, finally allowing herself to relax as Rhys scans through the other missed alarms. With a practiced motion, Rhys wiggled his fingertips in a certain pattern and his memos pop up.

“Oh,” Rhys offers helpfully and Yvette snorts with laughter.

“A miracle Vaughn hasn’t bust in yet to drag us off to bed,” Rhys continues. The holoscreen disappears in a blink as Rhys closes his fingers over the viewing port on his palm.

He places that hand on Yvette’s hip as well, thumbs rubbing little soothing circles over her shirt. Yvette shifts on his lap to tuck her head under his chin, slipping off her glasses when they poked Rhys in the throat. Rhys’ hands end up on her knees and on the lower end of her back, holding her close.

“So we should definitely be leaving now,” Yvette murmurs softly. “Vaughn is not going to be happy if he has to take the elevator all the way up here and wake us up just to take us home.”

“Five minutes,” Rhys argues, eyes already having slipped close. “C’mon Yvette. Sleeeeep.”

“You’re handwriting on some of those papers are aweful,” she says rebelliously. Rhys gives a noncommittal sound and she tries again. “You are absolutely going to redo them, Rhys. I am not going to approve your scribbles.”

Rhys slowly moves his legs, holding Yvette tighter to steady her as he shuffles off his shoes. Yvette laughs gently but allows the hand on her knees to reach down and pull off her heels.

“Rhys,” she tries one final time, “Vaughn is going to get mad.”

“He’s already gonna be mad,” Rhys reminds. “He’s probably already asleep from his expedition to Helios.”

Yvette wants to argue more, but Rhys is far too comfortable and she is much too tired. She can deal with Vaughn’s disappointed look so long as Rhys is there to share it with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long, school picked up and I had absolutely no time to write.


End file.
